


Every Step

by BekiBi



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abuse, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-sexual medical procedures, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rare Pairings, Recovery, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Unconscious Sex, Unconsciousness, heat - Freeform, heat cycle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekiBi/pseuds/BekiBi
Summary: Transformers Prime-verseStarscream-centric story. Will be a series of chapters eventually leading to a plethora of various sexual encounters for Starscream to experience, some are more unpleasant than others. Takes place shortly after his Armada fell apart and he returns to the Harbinger.If you want to skip the bad stuff I'll try to format chapters so you can skip an entire one without missing any plot! Warnings will be placed as still and I'll list the chapters with bad stuff (or fun stuff if you're into it ; D)Chapter 2: dub con lasting into non con/rape and unconscious sexChapter 4: non sexual medical procedure not meant to be weird but just a heads up





	1. The Heat Begins

 

**The Heat Begins**

 

 

Starscream had failed.

Of course he had, what else was new? He paced the empty, narrow space of the control room of the Harbinger. A slain clone of himself lay shoved off into a corner, only having one use left in it. He needed that blasted t-cog if he was expected to have any hope of surviving successfully without the immediate resources of the Nemesis and cowing back to Lord Megatron.

He shuddered at the thought.

He couldn’t go back now, he’d be murdered. If he had just been more patient, perhaps, sought resources first and snuck in and out of the ship? Built up a stock of things he could use, at least FUEL! He heaved a sigh, his clicking steps pausing so he could hold a servo over his face, processor working hard to find a new plan for his success. What would his next steps be?

Digits slid apart slowly, burning red optic sliding to stare at the communications panel. He couldn’t seek out the Autobot’s medic, not without something worthwhile to give them. He didn’t even have a hint of what the exact coordinates of the Nemesis had been and even if he did they would be useless now with the warship’s ever-shifting never idle ways.

“Blast it all,” he grumbled to himself, his own growl of a voice helping him feel more grounded in the present moment. He was exhausted, body still feeling the remaining ache from the mortal wound he’d inflicted on his remaining clone and the phantom impact it had on himself. Starscream lowered his servo from his face to pat his chest, reassuring himself silently that he was still whole. Well, t-cog aside, he was whole. He drummed his fingertips over his chest still trying to focus and come up with a feasible next step to help assure his well being.

“What I wouldn’t give for a decent recharge,” the seeker exvented, wings sagging low behind him. Practically dragging his pointed pedes he shambled up to the communications panel he had been eyeing a moment ago. He entered the known address for his message, but hesitated over the subject line, talon hovering. He glared at the blinking standby glyph, waiting for his next keystroke. Optics lowered to the keys below his hesitant fingers and his optic ridges furrowed together. His derma drew tighter into a thin line that nearly disappeared as he struggled with himself.  
Another couple of seconds and he punched in several glyphs, combining them into the subject line. Simple. Direct. To the point.

“Help.”

The groan he let out was long and carried far longer than it would have if anyone else was watching him. He felt exhausted just typing such a pitiful request, and that was just in the title of his message alone! “Will this TORMENT never END?!” He bristled to no one, slapping the keys in a fit, making a garbled mess of what would be the supposed message. A few more slaps and his tantrum was done, leaving him venting and wishing death to the offending monitor that offered him no assistance in his time of need.

“If I could only FLY I wouldn’t be reduced to this.. this… PITIFUL MESS!” He kicked the base of the equipment and the screen turned black, then flickered back on. For a nanoklik he swore his spark had stopped pulsing. That would be exactly what he needed, to be stranded without communication to ANYONE. He cycled another vent of fresh air and stepped back, righting his posture. He was getting too upset, even for being alone and frustrated with his situation. He just felt like anything would set him off, all he needed was one more thing to go wrong and he’d snap. His plating prickled and he rubbed his servos over each opposite shoulder pauldron to try and soothe his irritation.

It was a warm itch, crawling over his armor and deeper still until he felt his protoform warming. He growled and rubbed his upper arms. He wasn’t cold, no, these temperatures were no bother. Pulling up his internal readings he blinked. He was running hot? He manually started to cycle his vents a littler faster to ensure they worked. How had he not noticed? Even with them on his internal temperature was climbing very slowly.

“Oh for the love of..!” He snarled to himself and stamped his pede once, the clang echoing in the empty space. He read out his chronometer. It was.. it was approaching his heat cycle. He would have to go see Knock….

“OH FOR THE LOVE OF--!!” He cursed and stamped his pede repeatedly, the sound ringing out until his audials were buzzing, all the while hiking his wings up and flaring them out in his anger. He couldn’t see the Decepticon medic! The doctor had admittedly been incredibly useful since joining the nemesis. His heat cycles had been subdued and managed in private until they passed for YEARS.

Now here was Starscream, cast aside and in steadily surmounting trouble. He couldn’t do anything!! “WHY ME?! Why must I ALWAYS be in these incredulously LOW situations?! What more do I have to struggle through before I catch one, JUST ONE FRAGGING BREAK!” He shouted it out to the powers that be, as little as he believed anything was truly out there listening. Clearly none of this was HIS fault. Life was simply a mysterious and cruel mistress. The last thing he would expect was an answer, but why internalize when you can let your tantrums out at full volume?

Yet there was an answer.

An answer came in the form of a rumbling growl, a series of clicks and scuffling of heavy plating. One shuttle shuddering step, then another, behind the Vosian and in the direction of the downed craft’s only available entrance. Time stood still for the former Second in Command, utterly still and silent as all of his attention focused on what he couldn’t see, dare not look at, behind himself. This was an impossible nightmare. His fans clicked a notch higher, as did his core temperature; the former could hardly keep pace with the latter.

His processor was racing, trying to find a possible exit strategy, EM field pulling tightly to himself so his fear and racing spark wouldn’t be so easily detected. His wings, however, betrayed him and flicked up and down in his silent distress. He jumped when a heated breath crawled down his spinal struts. When had it gotten so close?! He hadn’t heard it at all in the last couple of steps it had to have cleared to get behind him. Slowly he commanded his helm to turn to look at this newest problem that fell into his lap.

A glowing red visor met his wavering red optics. The insecticon was as large as one would expect of the beasts. Not nearly as large as Hardshell but intimidating nonetheless. Its pointed and permanently exposed dentae parted, another hot exvent escaping it as it rumbled low in its chest again. The sound was so heavy it vibrated against Starscream’s plating and his wings tucked low and tight to his form. He couldn’t, or he was fairly certain he couldn’t, reason with such a being. Was it here to kill him? Drag him out to meet his end or lay him out for someone else to crush beneath their pedes and finally be rid of him.  
  
An invent from the insecticon had the air rushing back away from his form in a cool brief whoosh, then returned hotter than before. By Primus it felt good, and that thought horrified him almost as much as what the creature rumbled out in it’s next sigh.

“Hmmmmmmm….. Grrrravid????”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon/noncon ahead and SOME sweet stuff in later chapters!
> 
> THIS IS A WIP and my first official Transformer's fanfic, please be gentle.
> 
> Chapter 1 is a build up but things will move quickly afterword. Chapter 2 is the noncon chapter so far


	2. The Heat Swells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last warning to skip if not into rape and non con or insecticon goodness!
> 
> SKIP TO END NOTES FOR A SUMMARY

**The Heat Swells**

 

 

The seeker’s frame rattled almost audibly from the shiver of dread that coursed over him. This hulking beast was interested in him in the worst possible way he could have imagined at the moment.

“Now you listen here,” his voice began in a low growl, still barely able to see him from the glare he was sending over his shoulder, “I’m not-not GRAVID, you imbecile.” The insecticon growled, a series of doubtful clicks joining in as its mandibles waved, mouth opening again as if scenting the air. A heavy step forward and the massive beast was now pressed against Starscream. The Vosian reacted on instinct and jumped forward when the insecticon’s chest plate brushed against his wings.

Spinning on a heel he turned to face the looming threat, arm snapping up and aiming his right-arm’s rocket at his face. It didn’t flinch or shy away, or even acknowledge the danger it was in. Instead it’s head lifted in the subtle motion of it’s deep invent, letting it out with what could be described as a happy sigh. It was pleased. Another rumble and it spoke down to Starscream.

“Grraaviid,” he seemed to be trying to reassure the seeker. It was positive the former Second in Command was in a heat cycle and it wanted to do what it’s survival protocols commanded it to. Starscream tisked and held off on dispatching one of his few means of survival. The blast from his projectile would surely blow back on him from the proximity of its target, or damage the already rundown tech on board mere meters away. He had to… he had to think. It was getting harder, his heat bogging his systems down more and more by the second. He was brought out of his haze by a sharp pain that shot up his forearm.

Optics flared back to life from their dimmed thoughtful state as he’d lost focus. The damnable bug had plucked his rocket from it’s holding on his arm, the disconnect a forced and painful shock to the already sensitive body.

“YOU INSUFFERABLE SCRAP HEAP--!!” He reeled back, pressing into the wall behind him and clutching his wounded arm, servo catching the light dribble of energon that escaped from the now damaged connection ports. “HOW DARE YOU?!?!”

As if encouraged to show the other just how it was done the rugged creature reached his other massive servo toward him. He grabbed Starscream’s uninjured arm and yanked him forward and upwards. What was really meant as a gentle pull from the insecticon translated as a jarring snatch for the smaller Cybertronian. He flailed and clawed at the offending claws, but the insecticon easily plucked off his second rocket. Starscream gave a screech and kicked at his assailant’s underbelly with all he had, repeating his earlier pede-stomping tantrum on the beast.

It had little to no effect, as the insecticon merely dropped him when it deemed the seeker successfully disarmed. He turned and shuffled toward the entrance of the Harbinger, dropping the missiles on the floor there.

“CAREFUL WITH THOSE!!” He turned to look back at the silver mech, who was holding his arms over himself to soothe his aching arms. “If they explode you’ll cost me everything!” There was a tense silence between them after that, the insecticon looking at the weapons he’d dropped a second ago and then back at Starscream. He seemed to be serious. Deciding to remove the threat, the insecticon went back and scooped up the missiles and of all things he continued out until his steps were no longer audible or felt in the downed ship.

This was his chance. Starscream flew up, or rather threw himself, to the command console. He started deleting the gibberish he’d slapped over the keyboard earlier and began to frantically type, ignoring any poor grammar or spelling he left unchecked. He tried to type as quickly as he could and thought he was making progress, yet he didn’t see the glyphs arriving on the screen as fast as he thought they ought to with his pace. Was the keyboard broken? He looked down to see his claws hesitating, twitching and clicking one at a time over each key with seconds between every key press. His processor was working faster than his heated body could keep up with.

Giving a frustrated hiccup and hiss he tried to hone all of his attention to his servos, putting aside the ache in his arms and coiling heat deep within his center. His message so far was barely covering his current status.  
  
“Subject: HELP

DANGER NEED ASSIST NEED RESCUU PLESS COME TMY COORD--”

The monitor flew away from him with startling speed. The pain in his back and wings brought him to the reality he’d been ripped back from the tech instead. How fast had that insecticon moved?! No, how SLOW was he moving was the more accurate question. The glowing visor glinted down at him, swirling slowly. Everything blurred and spun into a strange world on its side. Starscream let out a hiss of hot air from his vents, helm resting on the ground as he lay on his side, half sprawled. He didn’t even hit send. He couldn’t even beg his enemies for help in his pitiful state.

The insecticon knew on some level that Starscream was being very unwilling and that console was possibly a way for him to attack him, he gathered. He had to act quickly or the other may hurt himself. He’d seen unwilling partners do rash things to prevent mating before. Other insecticons that weren’t wanting to carry gouge at themselves in front of prospective mates to prove they would harm any brood laid in them. Due to this breeding was usually fast and brutal, accompanied by protesting screams and light damage to both parties. This creature was not an insecticon, however.

He had tried to be gentle, careful and patient as he prepared to proposition him. Those missiles were a threat and he removed them. What else was he to think of the seeker typing? He had reacted swiftly, perhaps too roughly from how the light frame had been sent back, and now he felt terribly seeing the seeker land and slump over to the side.

Worried for the possible damage he may have inflicted on his intended mate he walked over, stooping low and giving nervous trills to see if Starscream reacted. The seeker groaned softly and his optics flickered in and out, blinking slowly and raising his helm only to let it ease back down to rest on the floor. He had to act now, the other wasn’t bleeding and his scent and energy still strong, full of life, and potential for new life.

He grasped one of the seeker’s legs and pulled lightly to position Starscream in the middle of the floor. Keeping the leg lifted he stooped low again, scenting and finding his way to the vertex of those slender struts. The heat was here, and it made his engines turn over in excitement. The insecticon allowed his glossa to snake out, sliding up the blazing panel. The taste was exquisite even through the closed cover, the taste of potential mate was always intense and made him tingle. His elytra shifted and clacked loudly on his back a few times, trying to calm his building anticipation and he swallowed down the call that threatened to erupt from his throat.

Normally it was a thing of pride, to call out to all other suitors that he was the victor before claiming his prize, but this was not the familiar environment of his hive and he didn’t know who else may be lurking. Such a delicate mate wouldn’t be able to handle a tug of war between suitors. He settled for a slow warble, crooning to Starscream and begging his attention and response. There was nothing more arousing than a fertile AND willing carrier.

Starscream gasped when another wet lap came over his closed panel and it snapped open without his consent, his heat coding giving orders from his subconscious. His optics flickered back online and he groaned. The scenery was different again and this time he could see his stiletto pede up in the air, and a thick clawed servo on his lower leg. He tried to sit up to look down only to have a thick heat penetrate him and send his back strut ramrod straight just before it arched. His wings scraped upwards on the flooring and beat once, signaling his pleasure.

A moan came swiftly after, the sound tearing away from his static laden voice box and dragging on into the silence of the Harbinger for several seconds. That heat was sensational, worming it’s way in and out of his desperately clenching valve. There was so much lubricant that it seeped out around the mass entering him and left trails going down his aft and toward his hips from the elevated angle. His free leg parted now, willingly inviting whatever that pleasant fullness was to take him deeper.

The insecticon’s glossa was an agile and long one, mostly round that tapered toward the end. It swirled and undulated within his potential mate’s valve, tasting and taking his pleasure at will. Those sounds that came from the seeker set his wings buzzing lightly. His secondary servos extended out to caress silver thighs, petting him and seeking sensitive cables just beneath the armor, strumming and plucking at him like a well tuned instrument and sending tremors through the seeker.

Starscream’s fans couldn’t keep up with the intense heat inside him and he had to begin expanding his plating to expel the heat, intake opening and his own glossa half extended as he panted, steam puffing out from all sides of him. Condensation built on his faceplate and chest, body contorting and writhing at the roll of the insecticon’s unfairly skilled glossa laving over him.

He didn’t recall when exactly he had acknowledged this was really happening but he also couldn’t gauge when he’d stopped caring. His body was raised so high that his weight was almost solely set on his shoulders and upper back, wings having a little more leeway to wiggle and twitch. He was able to look down at the creature again, one optic shuttered to keep it from fogging under his own breath.

“H-HEY-!” He gasped out to the insecticon. It’s visor glowed in response to acknowledge him but it did not slow its task, glossa thrusting lazily in and out, then circling while deep inside, then thrusting again. “W-What is y-nnnnn! Y-You! What is your DESSSSSNNNNngggg!!” His body was wracked with shivers as his charge built, crackling under his plating. “DESIGNATION!” He gasped desperately, voice lighter and needier than he meant it to be.

Surprised at the query the insecticon took a moment to consider telling him. It only made the seeker give him more pretty sounds, whining and begging more to know. Slowly dragging his glossa from it’s newfound home he swallowed down the juices it carried back with it.

“Pummmmellll,” he purred to the seeker, bringing the leg he’d held so high down a little so the Vosian wasn’t practically standing on his helm. He let the leg rest on his hip, glad when it seemed to grip and pull closer. The valve he’d been working at was now gaping with need, cycling down on nothing and relaxing back open, expecting, waiting for more.

“Hnng~” Starscream continued to whine even when the ministrations stopped, or rather BECAUSE they had stopped. His sensors were alight with desire at every angle, needing release soon. “Pum… mmm… Pummel, is it?” He looked over the beast, who nodded. He knew he’d be harmed if he let this continue. He had to be logical. “Pummel, I-I’ll… allow your glossa, alright? I will p-permit you to pleasure me.” The excitement that latched onto him from the insecticon’s field gave the seeker a long missed feeling of control.

He didn’t even have time to linger on the feeling because it was replaced with that sinfully skilled appendage, pushing deeper into him than it had before. He didn’t care that his legs were back up in the air and that he was keening like a turbofox in heat. Who was he trying to kid? He WAS in heat. He tried for so long to rise above his built in commands that now he was a slave to them. He groaned out the new name, helm tossing from side to side as he panted.

Pummel felt as if he were going to get drunk off of the seeker’s scent and taste and he wanted more and tasted deeper, rolling his glossa in a firm wave. The cry he earned made him beam with pride and doubled his efforts. One of his secondary servos left those thighs to pet up his partner’s lithe back, finding a wing and massaging the transformation seam there.

Starscream only saw white for a few seconds, his own voice ringing in his audials a second later. His voice box reset a couple of times before he was able to do anything but spit static. “Hnngggg Pummel! Primus okay you can stop! Oh! OH FRAG PUMMEL!!” He shouted as that glossa didn’t let up. He was being whipped into a frenzy after he had just overloaded. It quickly turned to begging. “Oh please! Please stop! I-I can’t! I can’t, please! Ohh-! NO! OHH!” Another wave wracked his body, current coursing over him and dancing between his seams, and making his legs straighten out, pointed pedes aiming up to the ceiling. He arched hard and ground against the insecticon’s face until he could feel those long sharp denta, the fronts being long and flat causing him to feel bold enough to grind against him.

“OH FRAG! YOU BEAST!” The insult carried as a compliment, disbelief that such a lowly creature would have him singing in such a way. Pummel scooped the proud Decepticon up and cradled his body in his arms, raising him up until he was nearly on the ceiling. The fluids he could only lap at until then now came out to fill him, Starscream gasping and crying for him again as the position made him feel even better. The pressure on his shoulders and wings was gone, his weight now evenly distributed along the insecticon’s broad arms.

His valve was pressed down on that creature’s never ceasing glossa, purring and chittering happily as it drank from him like a starving traveler getting his first taste of energon in cycles. He didn’t even care that there were mandibles dancing over the seams where his legs met his hips, he didn’t care that this monster was beneath him causing all of this. It brought him relief, in spite of the violent action earlier this felt like it was more than making up for it. Not that Starscream was one to forgive and forget, but this certainly helped Pummel’s case.

When nothing more seemed to dribble free of that delicious valve, Pummel retracted his glossa and lowered Starscream so he could observe him. One arm draped across his chest, the other hanging limply from his side, legs parted and inviting. Another content call to his mate, crooning at Starscream and lowering him further. His panel retracted and his spike pressurized quickly, standing at attention from his pent up energy. He brought the gray mech close and, as gently as he could muster, rutted against him. The long drag of his highly textured spike drew an equally long cry from his mate to be.

Starscream could feel every ridge, every tiny bump and node of the insecticon’s member against not only his swollen valve but his exterior node as well. His body shook and moved like something possessed, arching and writhing this way and that, mostly rolling his hips as best he could manage at that spike. He panted and forced himself up, placing a servo on one of the arms that held him in the air and looked down.

His system felt like it might sputter out, terror and desire both warring now. It was the biggest thing he’d seen in all his days. “NO!” He sputtered and tried to move back, “IT WON’T FIT! IT’S OBSCENELY LARGE! I SAID ONLY YOUR GLOSSA!!”

Pummel didn’t take kindly to the reminder and gave a small huff, but proceeded to angle the seeker. His secondary servos took up the task of keeping thrashing legs open and allowed his spike to nudge against the desired entrance. Starscream continued to plead but the cries fell on deaf audials. The insecticon focused all of is attention on gaining entry, attaining his goal and procreating. Damage would be avoided if possible, but he needed to carry this out, his own instinct overriding any possible guilt Starscream attempted to wring from him.

“H-HAVE YOU NO CONSCIENCE?!” He demanded, legs pulling and tugging at the servos that held fast to him. Soon his legs were on either side of Pummel’s waist, broad as it was he now had no chance of pulling his legs together or getting them drawn up enough to be of any use. Seeming to know this the small servos went to the task of massaging and pulling his valve lips open. Starscream’s helm fell back and the sensation of the blunt tip of the spike pushing at him froze his pleas.

Slowly it began to nudge its way inside, spreading him so wide he was certain his mesh lining would break at any moment. Ridge after ridge, node after node, he felt every single one of them as they slid deeper. His calipers were spread as wide as they could go, the damnable things trying to contract in uncontrolled spasms, every time it would make he insecticon pause and shudder, visor dark from the repeated pleasure it gave him. The insecticon was more than halfway inside when he met the resistance of the seeker’s gestation chamber.

He withdrew slightly and surged back in, bumping the closed connection. The force was gentle for the giant, but Starscream shouted and his claws grasped onto Pummel’s arms. “HNG! NO, IT’S TOO BIG! It won’t go-OH!” He was interrupted by another shallow thrust. “Nnnooo, it won’t go any fur-THER!” He collapsed back in those massive arms, his processor becoming a mess of pleasure. His HUD was flashing warnings now, informing him of the many strains that spike was putting his valve through and without trying the warnings were overridden and subdued by his mating protocol. One warning kept flashing, requesting he open gestation chamber to alleviate the stress of the intrusion. He vehemently denied it before the coding could get to it.

Pummel withdrew almost fully, pausing as the seeker gasped and his face contorted as if sad the feeling left him. He purred to try and comfort the other, sliding back into his familiar spot, nudging that back wall of the valve. Finally more of those sweet noises arose, Starscream sighing and keening for him, telling him how full it was making him. His pace was as gentle as he could muster, not wanting to harm his mate if he could avoid it, but he could only keep going slow for so long. With the heat between them intensifying and the valve lubricating more and more, Pummel kicked up the pace.

The thrusts grew faster and seemingly deeper, though each one ended with a hit to that chamber entrance. Starscream had his optics shut, trying to keep the HUD request to open for him denied each time, giving his all to paying attention to the pace the other set. It felt amazing, that much could not be denied, and it was making it very difficult to keep any semblance of sense about him. Without warning Pummel began to thrust more shallowly and swiftly, spike not quite reaching the back of his valve and Starscream was appreciative of that.

Starscream’s hold on the other’s arms became gentler, digits exploring for a place to hold onto the armor, body rocking and swaying as he was fragged. “Hnn Pummel, j-just like that,” he encouraged breathily. His legs were half latched around the insecticon’s waist now, heels scraping on thick plating as his body was jostled lightly with each thrust. The encouragement made Pummel trill in response and get more excited, thrusting faster to please the other.

He eased Starscream down more so he could brace himself on top of the other. The seeker’s huge optics made his worry apparent but Pummel knew better than to squish a smaller mech under himself. He was on his haunches now and put his primary servos on either side of Starscream’s torso. He lifted the seeker almost completely off his spike and then drew him back down, once again making the notification ping on Starscream’s display and once again it was denied.

“W-what was wrong with the o-other position?” He panted in a demanding tone. His answer was a rumbling coo and another lift and drop onto that massive spike. He hissed and denied the notification and was back in another cycle of thrust and denial of entry, getting frustrated that he couldn’t just enjoy a normal calm frag like a normal mech. It felt amazing but he was tense and distracted throughout by his HUD.

Pummel was getting frustrated on his end, not able to fully fill the other. He knew the smaller companion would present issues with size but he wanted to ensure he was breeding him properly. He increased the tempo and power behind his thrusts and the seeker began to sing for him again, crying out each time and gasping his name again and again. He warbled low in his chest, pleased to hear himself on the other’s glossa. More and more power into his thrusts, faster and faster he moved the seeker over his shaft, fragging him and overcharging him.

“OH! PUMMEL!! PUMMEL SL-SLOW-OH! OH YES!!” Starscream’s body huffed out vents of hot air each time, feeling as if they were forced out at the impact of his hips to the insecticon’s. He couldn’t move himself, completely at the mercy of those massive claws on his torso. He didn’t know when he’d stopped seeing them through a haze of snow in his optics but his notifications were not bothering him now. In a flurry of thrusts Starscream never had the chance to deny his tank from being opened, the insecticon pushing completely into him so deeply his stomach plating bulged.

His cry was a silent one, mouth open as his system was alight with pleasure, every fiber of his being sending rewarding signals to his processor that he was nearing the end of his task and that this was exactly what he’d needed. “OH PRIMUS!! FRAG ME! FRAG ME PUMMEL!”

The insecticon obliged and began his thrusts with much more satisfaction, spike going deep into the seeker and the tip being milked through that especially tight final ring in Starscream’s valve. He began to huff as well, venting to keep himself from overheating. “MMMIIINEE,” he crooned to the seeker who frantically agreed and begged for more. Pummel was so pleased with this he didn’t hold back his loud call, throwing his helm back as he slammed as hard as he could in and out of his mate, feeling himself about to climax.

Starscream’s claws were scraping and pulling at the other’s arms, trying to pull himself back down on the massive spike again and again, not having any idea of the nonsense he was spouting in his lust-hazed state. He was peaking, his charge beginning to crest as he mech over him drove into him wildly. Two final and hard slams pulled Starscream into completion, the insecticon staying sheathed fully within him as he, too, found release.

The fluids that poured into his tank didn’t seem to have an end in sight and Starscream couldn’t have cared any less, mouth open and glossa hanging out as he praised the other, encouraging him to keep filling him. The heat in his frame would begin to idle and simmer away, leaving him pleasantly full and overworked. Pummel didn’t dare move from his place within his mate, huffing and keeping himself cool as he watched the seeker smile in slight delirium, moaning and sighing happily.

A feeling of pride welled up when he saw how full his chosen mate was, torso plating bulging slightly and his cockpit looking like it was protruding out from his middle more than it initially was. He ground their hips for good measure, feeling his secondary mating function take over. His shaft swelled at the base slowly, making the seeker shift and whine a bit, not liking the extra stress added to his valve.

“Hn… what is that?” Starscream muttered, frowning as he began to feel more of the aches over the subsiding pleasure his heat had given him. He felt full and pleasantly so, at least, that massive shaft inside of him not doing anything to let that feeling slip away.

“Stayy inssssiiide,” Pummel answered for him, something like a purr clicking its way out as well. “Help keep broood.” He was trying to reassure the seeker but it did the opposite, making him tense and start to wiggle. He couldn’t get free of the spike, the base swollen inside and his valve lips feeling tight around it, pressed to the base of the insecticon’s appendage.

“Well I don’t WANT you to stay inside, the deed is done, now get off!” He demanded, growing flustered that he couldn’t just walk away and preen as seekers were wont to do post-mating. He certainly didn’t want THIS thing slobbering over him in whatever pitiful attempt at grooming they must follow. Pummel gave a soft thrum and rocked his hips, making the seeker freeze. It felt amazing but he was no longer clouded by his heat. The other was… he was inside his gestation tank, he could now feel WHY he was so full. “GET OFF!” He shrieked and tried to strike out at him.

“Hhaavve to keeep innsssiiiide,” he reassured again and began to slowly rut into him. “Onnnllyy couple moorrre tiiimmmessss.” Starscream lost it at the idea of being fragged and filled more without feeling the need in his circuits to take whoever he could to berth. The seeker struggled, panting and denying him, at least vocally. He swore at him, cursed his name and promised nothing but pain when this was done.

Then he began to calm down, voice growing less angry and quieter. Pummel tilted his helm at the other, thumbs petting over the seeker’s sides as he continued his lazy pushes into him, not that it was much of a thrust to begin with considering the knot at the base keeping him inside. Starscream’s optics were dark and his face almost confused and blank. He could feel the other growing warm again under his touch, which was a good sign. His scent grew stronger and the insecticon felt his body react in turn, spike throbbing and his knot pulsing.

“You… you idiot,” Starscream insulted lazily, glossa feeling heavy as his world grew warm and heady. The insecticon’s insistence and unwanted presence in his gestation tank caused his heat coding to reactivate. “Looks like you might get those other rounds you wanted after all,” he growled, but sounded less displeased and more playful.

Starscream rolled his hips back against Pummel’s and the larger of the two shuddered, warbling softly. He was so overjoyed, his mate desired him! He would not disappoint. He began to buck into Starscream, the motion not able to carry far but over time his knot shrank down and he was able to regain his full range of motion, giving the needy seeker exactly what they both wanted. They coupled again and again through the course of the next day and night until neither had the energy in them to continue, now just needing to rest and recuperate.

It was deep into the following night that Starscream onlined, body heavy and still far too warm for his liking. He looked over, finding Pummel had ventured out. He could see a pile of brush and greenery that the insecticon had been gathering. He’d mentioned something about helping with ‘the nest’ and he tisked to himself. There was no way he was going to carry this dolt’s brood. They were probably not even compatible! Even if they were, he had made sure not to spark with the other, so everything inside of him was nothing more than wasted efforts to bring his heat down.

Wasted only because the insecticon was NOT a truly desired companion and because Starscream was stuck in a recurring heat the other kept triggering when he didn’t just leave him be. The seeker struggled to roll onto his hands and knees and began to crawl weakly toward a corner where his armada had formerly been created, knowing there were drainage areas there. He frowned as he manually brought the command up on his HUD to open his gestation tank. In his heat it was even harder to send through, having to override command after command. He reached into his stretched valve, shuddering at how easy it was to get those long claws of his all the way in toward the back. He could feel the seam of the cover and began to force it open, finally getting his system to accept it.

He shuddered at how much of the other mech’s fluids had stayed inside of him, pushing down and letting all of it drain. He would need to get this cleaned out, it was dangerous to have anyone in his tank let alone leave a mess behind. When he was sure he’d done all he could he shook his servo free of what fluids clung to it and listened for the other. Pummel must still be out. Relieved he began to pad over on servos and knees to the communications terminal.

He began to type out his message he’d never sent, not caring that there were smears of lubricants and transfluids all over the keys he touched. He didn’t touch up the beginning of the message, just sent it and not a moment too soon. Pummel returned, dumping another thicket of nesting materials down. He shuffled into the ship and sniffed at his mate who was laying down seemingly where he left him. He hunkered down and began to curl up with him, warbling contently.

It stopped when his servo met Starscream’s flat belly. Distressed he moved up and pushed Starscream onto his back, not liking the defiant look the seeker gave him. There were fluids all over his thighs, the very essence he’d tried so hard to keep inside of him. All that effort ruined. He whined and his optic band seemed to be searching for an explanation, why had his mate purged the brood?

“Oh don’t give me that look,” he spat, “I wouldn’t hold your offspring and you know that.” Something angry passed through the once nurturing and adoring field of the insecticon and Starscream felt a pang of fear in his own. “I wouldn’t BE CAPABLE of it!” He tried to reason even as the other began to growl. “If I had kept it and let it fester I would have gotten sick! And for what?! For you to think I killed any offspring?! I can’t bear YOUR offspring! We’re not compatible!” Pummel would have none of it. He could tell the other was in heat, he was just making excuses.

The large mech lifted and dropped the smaller mech onto his front, winding him a moment. He growled and started to climb up to his knees again which was just where he wanted him. Starscream panicked when he heard the snick of Pummel’s interface array opening and tried to clamor away but his thighs were snared and dragged back. That thick mass of a spike pushed without mercy into his still stretched valve and he choked back a moan. The position made it feel deeper than it had before, pulled flush against him the insecticon wound his arms over Starscream, pinning his arms at his side and keeping him bent over.

Pummel thrust hard and deep, moving quickly as if to regain lost ground in this battle to mate and have Starscream carry his offspring. The impact against the seeker’s tank was dangerously rough and it only took a few hits before the seeker gave in and opened it to him. Warbling as if he’d just won a small battle Pummel would thrust harder, using his arms to pull Starscream down onto his shaft, making him impale himself.

Starscream moaned and cried out for him to reconsider but once again he was at the other’s mercy and his head made him far too compliant and accepting. There was no messages back from the autobots on the computer screen, he could at least tell this much from his position. Help would not be coming, he was sure. He had nothing to offer them, no intel and nothing about him was of value. He knew he’d be trapped with this damned beast until it finally realized Starscream was no good to him. What a miserable ending, the former air commander thought bitterly.

He wanted to go out on his own terms, a blaze of glory, not a whimper. If he was being entirely honest he didn’t want to go out at all! He would have to make do, he surmised. He closed up his vents, pinned his armor down tight and tried not to give the other mech the satisfaction of giving him any pleasure out of this. His protocols were insistent and warnings flooded his HUD until he shut it down. Being in entirely manual mode was foreign to him, like he was drifting and had distant control of his body. The constant jarring from those never ending thrusts and the building core heat made him feel heavy and weak, his processor finally overheating. His optics began to flicker in and out, catching a loud crackle and a flash of green light before his senses left him, the last feeling being very pleasantly full in spite of his wishes.

* * *

 

Ratchet had frowned and contemplated the message he’d received. Bulkhead as usual was behind him and curious about it.

“Let me guess? Bring a medical kit, come alone?” He gave an amused ‘huh’, not surprised that Starscream was reaching out to the medic again. Ratchet was too quiet for Bulk’s liking and he cleared his intake, getting a little more serious as the mood seemed to call for it. “Doc?”

“Its definitely Starscream but this… doesn’t seem right. Could be a trap, though any time he asks for help it could be a trap. Take a look at this,” the Autobot medic stepped aside to let the bigger bot have a look.

“Subject: HELP

DANGER NEED ASSIST NEED RESCUU PLESS COME TMY COORDNTS HELD AGAINST WILL PLEASE COME QUICKLY I DO NOT KNOW WHEN HE IS RETURNING.”

Below the main message were the tagged coordinates, which Ratchet was bringing up on a map on a separate monitor. Bulkhead rubbed his chin and hummed.

“Well he didn’t say NOT to bring backup? Maybe it is a trap.. or not… this is weird.”

“Too weird,” Ratchet agreed and used some satellite imagery to look at the requested pickup point. “That doesn’t look man made.” The blurry imagery was definitely not a human built structure and it was obscured by the surrounding land. “I saw we go in, weapons out. If it’s bad enough for him to ask for our help and reveal his base, if that is what it looks like, he might be in serious trouble.”

Bulkhead shuffled his pedes, not entirely sure. “He didn’t offer any intel, doc, what do we have to gain from going..?” Ratchet leveled a dangerous glare at him, making Bulkhead raise his servos in his defense. “I just mean, uhh, you know, we don’t know what we’re risking our bumpers for. We should ask Optimus.”

“Optimus is out of communications range right now, dealing with something Agent Fowler deemed ‘confidential’.” He huffed and grabbed a medical kit just in case, leaving the coordinates up. “We’ll be back before anyone is back from patrols, but just in case we’ll have this all open for them. Now let’s MOVE IT.” He opened the ground bridge and stepped through, Bulkhead jogging in behind him.

* * *

 

They stepped out right into the ship, knowing it was a dangerous move but with such urgency risks had to be taken. What they saw was a curled over insecticon’s back, hips twitching and grunting. The smell struck both of the Autobots at the same time, the musky scent of heated engines and spilt fluids. The insecticon turned toward them, bellowing and elytra raising as it tried to threaten them, warn them to stay back with a display.

He still had Starscream limp in his arms, wings bent against the force of his hold against his chest and helm hanging down. Ratchet dropped the medical kit and transformed his other arm into his EM pulse, aiming and shooting at the insecticon. Bulkhead had no room to swing his wrecking ball, all he could do was shoot at the heavily armored insecticon’s back. The bug was struck by both of them, apparently also in too confined a space to do much but display. His wings were seared by Bulkhead’s weapon and he was rendered almost immediately unconscious by Ratchet’s pulse. He fell to his side, dropping the limp second in command.

Ratchet rushed to him and grimaced, seeing the large mech was indeed in the middle of forcing himself onto the Decepticon. Bulkhead stopped a few feet back, optics wide and uncertain on how to proceed. Ratchet gave the huge mass a push but couldn’t keep it up.

“I need your help here, Bulkhead! Hold it up so I can get Starscream out of here,” he demanded and was glad when the other snapped to it. He rolled the insecticon over enough for the medic to carefully pull Starscream free from the assailant. The massive spike didn’t go unnoticed, still twitching and swollen, making the medic growl in disgust. He hoisted the dented and dinged seeker up and started back to the open ground bridge.

“Whoa-whoa-wait! We can’t just take him back to the base!” Bulkhead hurried up to get closer to Ratchet, hovering and worrying.

“I am CERTAINLY not going to give him a half-afted patch up and dump him back out in the wild, Bulkhead! We may be enemies but I am NOT some sparkless monster!” Ratchet huffed indignantly and Bulkhead knew that it would make a convincing argument to Optimus. The prime would never abandon someone in need, even if it was an enemy. Still seeing hesitation on the wrecker’s face Ratchet heaved a sigh. “We’ll have him strapped to the medical berth, alright?” Bulkhead nodded and followed the medic back to their base. It was a good thing none of the kids were expected to visit that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos!
> 
> SUMMARY: Starscream got railed by an intersecticon. At first he was like "okay you gross weirdo I'll let You play with me a little". Things get out of hand, insecticon gets too rough, hours of mating, Starscream manages to send a cry for help to the Autobots.
> 
> Ratchet and Bulkhead show up, see Starscream unconscious but the bug won't stop, they go pew pew bug goes OW JEEZ Starscream gets rescued and they book it without killing him because WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY JUST SEE RUN HOLY SHIT
> 
> also the Insecticon's name is Pummel. YOU'RE WELCOME


	3. The Heat Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream just needs a helping hand.
> 
> Bulkhead/Starscream

**The Heat Beckons**

 

So hot. Everything was just hot. Why was the air so stagnant? He generally hated drafts when he was in recharge but Starscream could truly use one at this point. He swore he could hear voices, wondering who was outside of his room and if they intended to wake him up. He cracked his optics open and was blinded by a bright light. Too bright to be his berth room, and far too bright for the Harbinger. Was he outside? He groaned as his body strained to move under his commands. He couldn’t move at all, and he burned all over, inside and out.

Starscream could at least turn his helm away from the light and tried to focus again. The voices were louder, more clear, and they were approaching. He could see two figures, one white and another green for the most part. He recognized the voices before his optics sharpened more and dread crawled through his plating like an eager scraplet.

“Bulkhead, I am a medic. I have to tend to the wounded. Optimus would want that, and he’ll know the second he’s back in communications range. You can stay if it makes you feel better but I can handle a tied down jet.” Ratchet was grouchy as always, having no time for the other’s protests.

“We don’t got the type of tools to fix what might be wrong with him, doc. I don’t think it’s worth the effort, we don’t even know what we stumbled on. He probably wanted it, you know? Got too lonely and made a deal with one of those bugs and it got out of hand…? Screamer always bites off more than he can chew.” The massive mech was entirely put off of the idea of helping Starscream after what they’d seen. He had expected a trap, the other being trapped by his own forces, not hunched over by an insecticon. He shuddered bodily at the memory and frowned. He continued to follow the medic and froze when he saw the jet staring at him from the medical slab.

He was on his back and his arms and legs were pinned to the berth with stasis bonds, the energy too strong to be simply snapped open like the flimsier earthen metals at their disposal. Ratchet saw the other was awake as well but didn’t freeze up.

“Good, you’re awake. We can get this over with.” The medic groused at him and pulled out a scanner, going over the jet without entertaining him with idle chit chat. Starscream still hadn’t stopped his glaring at the large wrecker just outside of the medical area.

Bulkhead finally got his mind back where it ought to be with an enemy in their midst. “What’s so interesting over here, huh?” He tried to intimidate the bird without threatening.

“Bulkhead, don’t start,” Ratchet chided, seeing the spike in the other’s sparkrate as the jet was far too easily provoked.

“I see a waddling green blob of idiocy. One that insults me and thinks I would EVER want to be VIOLATED by that VILE CREATURE!” Starscream bucked and thrashed, his body clanging against the berth and causing Ratchet to set his scanner down to attempt to calm the enraged Air Commander.

“Starscream settle down! We don’t know what happened, we’re not here to judge--” He stammered, trying to activate another restraint across his chest. The seething seeker turned his optics on the medic now, denta bared and snarling.

“You too, you stupid Autobot?! You think I stoop so low as to invite company of INSECTICONS?! That I would invite one to my berth?!?!” His voice cracked and coolant was burning the edges of his vision. “You should have left me there to die than to suffer these indignities! How dare you tie me up and judge me from your makeshift PEDESTALS?!” He didn’t care that he spat as he screamed at them, it felt good to get this pent up anger out. He didn’t have to take this lying down, even if he was lying down.

“ENOUGH! We don’t know what we saw! We’re not going to pass judgment on you, Starscream, just calm down so we can assess the damage!” When Starscream did not calm down and continued to vent his rage and insult the two Ratchet would finish the additional binding and stepped away, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a small vial and clicking it into an injector. Bulkhead had to clench his fists as the jet laid there insulting their cause and them personally, drawing their morals into question and saying despicable things one wouldn’t even utter in battle to provoke an opponent.

Ratchet pressed the medical gun against the gap in Starscream’s armor on his arm, sending the sedative straight into his main lines. The shouting calmed to ragged breathing and soft huffs of vents, and finally he grew limp and his helm fell back on the berth. Ratchet stood with his arms braced on the berth and helm down, his own temper having been stoked.

“Peh, good thinkin’ doc. That sure shut him up,” Bulkhead gave a small chuckle but it caught in his intake when Ratchet turned an angry scowl on him.

“Bulkhead do you have any clue the severity of what he’s been through?! I don’t care if it was MEGATRON on this berth, I will not allow you to upset my patients!”

“Wuh-! But Ratch, it’s Starscream! He was probably messin’ around and he’s embarrassed it got out of hand-!”

“Do you know what RAPE is?!!” That certainly brought the wrecker out of his defense. He hadn’t thought of it that way, although he was sure he had known better but he didn’t want to think it was possible. For their enemies to turn on one another in such a horrible way was probably more than the big mech could stomach. He turned his face away and hunched into himself slightly.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Ratch. I know...”

“I KNOW you know, just… Ugh...” Ratchet had to calm himself down as well. As much as he didn’t want this all to be happening he knew Starscream couldn’t be sent away. They had to learn more about the attack by the insecticon before they could even think of sending him back to Megatron’s forces. Was it an ordered attack? Would the war monger stoop so low as to order such a thing on his Second in Command? Too many questions to dwell on. He needed to analyze, to fix, to perform his duties. Bulkhead slunk closer and fidgeted his large clumsy hands together.

“Anything I can do to help…?”

“… Stay out of the way,” Ratchet’s hostility faded to curt orders. “Just watch unless I need your help. If Starscream wakes up you just apologize and get out of sight. Understand?” Bulkhead nodded. He was mech enough to admit when he’d been out of line.

Starscream would be out for most of the medic’s examination and surface repairs, left to rest and self repair the new welds as he recharged. Ratchet had found his systems dangerously low on energon and, though their own stock was incredibly low, split a ration with the jet to ensure he didn’t go into a permanent stasis.

He had found the jet was missing more than just his dignity at the moment. He was without a T-Cog. He wasn’t nearly as much of a threat without the ability to fly, but Ratchet deemed this information something only Optimus ought to know. The more the others treated him like the dangerous enemy he was, the better the base would be for it. More precautions, not letting their guard down, play it safe.

Ratchet had sent Bulkhead to go rest, the fusspot getting on his nerves as he paced and hovered. He actually WANTED to apologize to the jet but it would need to wait until later. Optimus and the others were still out of comm range and their only clue on the status of their mission was Agent Fowler giving brief but vague updates that it would be a bit longer and he had made arrangements to have the children be given rides to and from school. It would do the children some good, Ratchet figured as he saddled up next to his console near the ground bridge, pulling up his work he’d neglected for Starscream that day.

He was still going over possible ways to fix up their equipment to higher standards, start searching for their own energon deposits possibly, or even synthesize their own if possible. He hadn’t realized he’d slipped into recharge on his pedes until a loud keening brought him out of his brief nap. His knees had locked and his helm had been tilted back with his servos on the console. He snorted and looked around, blinking and realizing the keening was not just a figment of his imagination.

He took off at a stiff shuffle towards the noise, seeing Starscream writhing against his bindings weakly, only able to shift his hips and legs slightly as well as his helm.

“Starscream, you’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you,” he began tiredly but looked confused when the jet’s optics remained unfocused and darted around the room as if he couldn’t see the medic. “Starscream, are you awake?” He took the risk of reaching out and placing a servo on the other’s helm to keep it still and shone a light from one of his other fingers into the other’s optic. It hardly responded, just glancing around in search of something. The heat radiating off of him was of grave concern as well. He’d shuttered his vents again and clamped his armor. The medic moved to step back, knowing he’d need another sedative but a sharp pain brought him to a standstill.

The seeker clamped his blunt denta into the other’s palm before he could pull it away but he didn’t tear in as he so easily could have. His optics were finally clearing up and he narrowed them at Ratchet. The medic held still, lips drawn into a tight frown as he refrained from cuffing his patient. “Starscream, what do you think you’re going to accomplish?” He could feel the gusting hot breaths from the other’s intake, the moisture from his oral fluids and those surprisingly soft lips against his palm, framing the painful bite.

Starscream relaxed his jaw and allowed Ratchet to take his hand back. “Stay,” he rasped at him. His heat was swallowing him up and he knew this Autobot medic had to know. “Stay and fix me.” Ratchet scoffed and turned partially away, about to retort that he already did what he could but Starscream continued. “Please, Ratchet was it?” He asked as if he was only just getting to know the other, trying to ease his normally callous nature and convince the medic to keep close.

“I’ve tended to your more serious wounds, Starscream, I don’t know what more I can do to help you but keep you safe here and well rested.” Ratchet checked his hand, not seeing any major damage and hardly any dents left from the other’s bite.

“Ratchet, I didn’t… I didn’t want what happened to me,” Starscream tried to explain, shifting his hips as his valve began to burn and lubricate at the twisted memory. “I NEEDED it… Not like that, but I, I need… Ratchet, please fix me,” he whined and arched his hips up. The medic was clearly at a loss for words for a moment.

“Starscream what in the pit are you babbling about? You didn’t want it but needed it? Just say what you mean, not this talking in circles nonsense. Get to the point,” he huffed and picked up the sedative from the drawer he kept them in and refilled the earlier used injection gun, moving to first replace the injection needle.

“Doctor, I’m from VOS… I’m in HEAT. Did you not pick that up on your blasted scanner???” So much for pleading and sweet talking the other. He was embarrassed but surely this mech could find a way to fix this. Knockout had, after all. Ratchet paused and looked at him, optics trying to extract the truth from the other. He could smell the musky, semi-sweet aroma of lubricants from where he stood and his faceplate warmed. He’d only read about such situations, but never experienced this or studied in it explicitly.

“Buh-we-well I never had a seeker under my care, I don’t think I-I have anything equipped to HELP, Starscream, I-There’s nothing I can do about THAT,” he blustered and threw his arms up as his hands gestured while he spoke, not knowing what he could do to help the other. Starscream let his helm fall back onto the berth, whining when he didn’t seem to be getting his way. The white and red medic frowned as he approached with the newly prepped injection gun.

“Perhaps this will help you rest. You won’t be miserable if you’re not conscious.” Starscream turned his helm away, sulking. Ratchet didn’t know why this made him feel… obligated to assist him? Was it because the other had actually asked him for help so openly and he had none to offer? He put it all aside and injected him a second time, giving the same dosage as before to knock him out for half a day at least. He returned to his console, pulling up new files and trying to research any sparse information he had in the medical data stores about mating or heat cycles, about Vosians. He was not surprised when he came up dry.

He ran scans of the seeker and analyzed them, looking at all the symptoms and coming up with possible ways to alleviate the symptoms, checking on his heated frame repeatedly. The seeker had his panel open and the heat and scent coming from it struck the doctor somewhere deep in his core and he had to pull out a tarp to cover the seeker’s lower half at least. He would crank the air conditioning as well, knowing Agent Fowler would have something to say about that later. He worked until he was again exhausted and was grateful Bulkhead was up from his recharge by then.

“Morning Doc. How’s your patient?” He tried to greet warmly but the medic was having none of it.

“I’m taking a break. If he wakes up, do NOT talk to him, provoke him, or remove his cover, am I clear?” He was being more blunt than usual and Bulkhead nodded quickly, just agreeing quietly so the medic could finish his mini rampage past him, muttering and cursing about how nothing was ever easy and he wasn’t a maid to clean up after everyone. The green mech let out a slow exvent and shuffled on over to the communications console, careful of his large digits as he opened up the locator screen to see if Optimus and the others had popped up since Agent Fowler’s last update but there was nothing.

He left it alone and glanced over at the prone form in the medical bay. He walked over slowly, carefully. He wouldn’t talk to the jet, he wouldn’t say anything and he would not remove the cover. He could follow directions. He was curious of the steadily beeping monitor that reflected the strong sparkpulse of the captive Decepticon. That was a good sign, right? Bulkhead didn’t want to stick around too long, knowing he could easily misstep and cause a disaster in the semi confined corner of the base. He started to head away, wondering if he could get away with playing some music without bothering Starscream or Ratchet, though his tastes in human metal music wasn’t the quietest, and he had Miko to thank for that.

“Where are _you_ off to?” A groggy seeker called over to him and the green mech stopped, looking back at the berth. His optics were open again, but there was no animosity. They looked unfocused, but still trained on the Autobot. “I asked you a question,” the seeker drawled, “How rude to ignore your guest.” He chuckled lowly, giving the Autobot the creeps.

Bulkhead wasn’t to talk to him, not engage him or get him going, doctor’s orders. He turned again and lumbered off, trying hard to find busy work alone and without being near enough that the seeker could get his attention easily.

That was easier said than done. It didn’t take long for strange sounds to draw the hefty mech back toward the medical bay. Starscream was keening and tossing his helm, arms pulling at his restraints and chest pushing up against the restraint pinning him down on his wiggling and clattering wings. Bulkhead knew better but it was so annoying to have to listen to this, and he wasn’t about to let the unwelcome guest wake Ratchet from a very rare moment of recharge.

“Would you stuff it?” He grumbled down at Starscream when he was close enough to do so. The seeker took a deep breath and exvented in a relieved sounding sigh.

“Oh there you are, big boy,” he cooed and opened his optics to see the stern face glowering down at him. “I need your help. Won’t you be a sweetspark and take that blasted tarp or whatever it is off of me? I’m so unbearably hot.” Bulkhead shook his helm vehemently.

“You need to pipe down. Believe me you do NOT want to get Ratchet angry by waking him up mid-recharge.” He huffed at the unpleasant memories of a raging Autobot medic fuming at those that had been brazen and dumb enough to wake him up. The seeker hardly cared, and only had more ammunition to try and manipulate the Autobot. He shuttered his optics and settled from his writhing, laying still much to Bulkhead’s relief. He took a step back to pivot so he could leave and get back to distracting himself.

Starscream’s helm tilted back and he parted his lips, letting out a slowly building and almost pained cry, the sound building until it was bordering on a scream. Bulkhead panicked and rushed back over, then placed a hand down on the seeker’s intake. The massive servo covered quite a bit of it as he tried to muffle the ridiculous sound.

“What are you doing??? Stop that, just- why won’t you just keep resting??” He tensed and could swear he felt something wet on his servo and yanked his hand back, seeing a bit of oral lubricant on it. His optics jumped back to the seeker who was grinning up at him cockily.

“You have something I want, something I _need_ , and I won’t let it go without a fight,” he purred.

“W-what’re you after, you lunatic?” Bulkhead was completely breaking the rules, not caring now. The dirty ‘con LICKED HIM, like some youngling trying to weasel out of something and grossing out his opponent.

“I’m after _you._ Even just one of your fingers ought to do the trick,” Starscream whined, looking at them as if they were a rare delicacy he couldn’t do without, glossa darting out to moisten his lips.

“What??” The poor wrecker felt out of his depth with this, the other was probably speaking in fevered riddles and wasn’t even in his right head.

“Take off this blasted tarp and you’ll see exactly what I need.” His optics whirled and sharpened, the white hot pupil a bright burning point focused on the green mech. He demanded his cooperation, staring at him as he pushed his EM field outward, a musky heady feeling washing against Bulkhead. If that wasn’t a hint, Starscream didn’t know what was. The larger mech swallowed thickly, having caught on it would seem. He glanced to the tarp, knowing he shouldn’t… but… the other needed help somehow and if he was still restrained what would it hurt?

He pinched the thin plastic where it hung slack and pulled, letting the crinkling material fall away from the seeker. His legs were still parted by the bindings on the bottom corners of the medical slab and at the vertex where the legs met his hips there was a slowly growing pool of lubricant. Starscream’s modestly panel was retracted and his spike fully pressurized and straining. The cool air hitting his frame made the seeker roll his hips and sigh happily.

“Mmnn yes, much better,” he breathed out and bit his lower lip briefly, all a little show for the big lug staring openly at him. “Now then, won’t you help a mech out? Just a finger is all I ask.”

“W-why do you… need...” Bulkhead couldn’t tear his optics from that slick port, the folds glistening and begging to be touched. The node at the top was pulsing a dull red, heating with need and visible peaking out from his valve lips as it was so swollen now. The outer ring of the seeker’s silver and red accented port clenched on nothing, above that the spike twitched like a finger being crooked up to beckon the other upward. A single bead of transfluid escaped from the tip of the slender, curved spike; the single strand hanging over the seeker’s lower abdomen and Bulkhead’s hungry optics followed it the whole way on its journey.

“I need something inside me, something to sate me. Something more intelligent than some beastly insecticon taking advantage of me. I am asking you… I know our factions are opposite, but please, this…” Starscream appeared to be completely sincere in his tiny wiggles and pitiful whines. “This is something I _need_. Please, Bulky,” he cooed the nickname, “I _need you_.” The larger mech felt his spike pressurize behind his modesty plate instantly. The impact against the inside making him wince and shudder.

It had been ages, he couldn’t remember the last time even before the war that he’d gotten lucky with any mech. Starscream was his enemy, but this… he wanted it, he told him so! He needed it! Bulkhead’s processor felt like it was being overclocked as he tried to reason his way out of this. He was going against everything Ratchet told him. Everything. He would have to face the consequences, but this, this lascivious display was breaking the wrecker’s will down faster than enemy interrogation.

“I can’t unbind you,” he said in a static laden voice, stepping closer. “You know that?” He wouldn’t let the ‘con trick him out of this situation. Even without missiles the wily mech could be a force to be reckoned with.

“You don’t have to unbind me to finger-frag me,” the seeker countered quickly. He again gave a wash of lust toward the other mech from his field. Bulkhead’s engine turned over with a rumble and he reached his large servo down so swiftly he hadn’t even realized he’d done it until the jet gasped and cried out happily. He pressed a broad and thick digit against the Air Commander’s middle, rubbing up and down slowly to guage how exactly the other wanted this to happen. The jet gasped and arched his hips up what little distance he could muster and he whimpered, grinding on the hot finger offered to him. He angled his hips, canting them this way and that and letting it push on his outer node.

Bulkhead grinned and moved the finger in careful strokes, watching in fascination as the jet rutted down on it with abandon. “Calm down there, Screamer, you might strain yourself,” he chuckled and the jet only continued to whine softly.

“Hnn~ You don’t unders-stand, ah-! I needed this sssssooo badly~!” He gasped and moaned, trying to get the finger inside but it pulled away. His sweet begging turned to a vicious snarl. “What are you doing?! Touch me again! Do it!” He demanded. Bulkhead looked over his lubricant covered finger, rubbing it with his thumb and smirking.

“Now that ain’t no way to ask for a favor. You really need to learn some manners, Screamer.” Bulkhead moved a little closer to the berth and let his clean hand grip the jet’s hip and lifted, supporting him and looking down at the needy valve. It looked tender, sensitive and hungry. He leaned in and exvented over the spike and valve. Starscream’s helm fell back heavily on the metal surface he was bound to and let his mouth hang open, tiny choked noises barely coming out. Taking it as a good sign he breathed out heated air onto him again and the spike twitched and gave more transfluid, tiny beads spilling out from straining under such conditions for too long.

“P-Plea… Please, I… I need… ah… hah...” He vented and let his fans try to expel his body’s building heat. The angle Starscream was being held at meant he had zero mobility, the large digits behind his aft keeping him tilted and off the slab enough that all he could do is wiggle his pedes. Those heated gusts were maddening against his aching array.

“I gotta see what I’m working with, alright? Take it easy.” Bulkhead was very amused, enjoying seeing the other beg under even the lightest ministrations. He swore if he just stared at the other’s spike long enough it might just climax from that alone. Starscream was about to say something biting judging from the angry twist in his field, but it flashed back into a happy swell of pleasure when Bulkhead’s heavy glossa met the tip of his swollen cord.

The wrecker was positioned in a way that he was sort of upside down facing, top of his helm more towards Starscream’s pedes. He began to lick slowly over the spike he was so fascinated by. The transfluid was sweet yet tangy, like some rare treat being milked out of the appendage. Bulkhead was able to enjoy his treat and a show, very close to that needy and clenching valve. He opened his massive jaw and easily took in the spike, trapping it in the moist heat of his intake and letting his broad glossa pet it from base to tip.

Starscream shook from top to bottom, wings pressing hard on the unyielding table and forcing his chest against the binding there. His pleas were a garbled mess of demands and gratitude all messily spouted together at Bulkhead. It was more than he’d hoped for, but still his hungry coding demanded more fulfillment. The wrecker obliged without being asked again, his digit returning to those needy lips. He rubbed lightly at first, the lubricant on his finger cool and contrasting with the hot array.

“OH FRAG ME! OH! BULK~!” Starscream keened out with earnest and Bulkhead groaned around the slim spike, his own pressing angrily against its housing. His finger rubbed between the folds, going up to the heated node and pressing without mercy and then sliding effortlessly back down between the puffy lips, nudging against the once abused outer ring of the valve and back up.

The seeker was rasping for cool air now, panting and letting oral lubricant spill down his chin as he cried out again and again. Bulkhead pulled back from the spike and released the Decepticon’s hip. Immediately Starscream resumed his rutting he’d tried before, thoroughly enjoying himself. Bulkhead leaned up the other’s frame, finger still pumping over his folds while he now faced the seeker directly, looking down at those blazing and over energized optics.

“You’ll have to keep it down, Screamer. I know that’ll be hard for you,” he chuckled and figured the other would live up to his name if he didn’t get him to keep it down. Starscream closed the distance between their faces, straining to do so but needing to do it. His lips pressed onto Bulkhead’s large ones and the mech was surprised at first but figured this would work perfectly to shut the bird up.

He engaged him in a bold and somewhat messy kiss due to his broader build. Starscream continued to buck and rub himself on that marvelous finger until even that wasn’t enough. He turned his helm away to try and part the kiss and demand more but the heavier mech chased the kiss, wanting more. In a flash of frustration he nipped the wrecker’s upper lip, hard enough to pierce the soft plating and the green mech jerked his helm back, tasting his own energon and seeing it on the seeker’s bared dental plates.

“What the scrap?? Really? After all this?? Here I am helpin’ you and holding myself back, yeesh.” He moved his servo away, frowning and feeling possibly foolish for the first time since this insane encounter began. Starscream’s optics widened and he shook his helm quickly.

“No! NO NO NO NO PLEASE DON’T STOP! You’re everything I need, please, I just needed to speak, y-you’re relentless! I-I don’t want you to hold back,” he held his legs wide open as he could manage. “I-I know you can’t unbind me but I swear if I were free right now I’d ride your spike until it switched factions, I’d treat it so well, please believe me, I need anything you can give me! You can keep kissing me, you can even bite me back, just give me MORE, I need it INSIDE ME!”

Bulkhead knew the other was supposed to have a silver tongue but for the love of Primus that was intense. “You’d make my _spike_ switch factions?” He chuckled but Starscream nodded hungrily. “You’re sure you can handle this? Inside?” He held up his thick finger, glistening in the other’s lubricants. Starscream looked like he were lovestruck by it and licked his derma, then caught his lower lip between his denta and nodded more slowly.

“Please, Bulky~” He whined again and wiggled his hips. “I’ll let you put it all the way in, I can take it~” he cooed and the wrecker shook his helm, grinning in disbelief. No one would ever believe he was able to get the Decepticon's Second in Command and lead Air Commander to BEG for his FINGER. What a bar tale this would be. He moved back in to capture those pleading lips, knowing they’d be moving and shouting again in just a moment, and he was not disappointed.

His digit made contact, light again and making Starscream gasp out into the kiss, optics half-shuttering but the excited energy still making them glow brightly. Bulkhead opened his own and watched him closely, something he hadn’t been doing when they kissed before. Starscream ground his hips against the finger, trying to guide it into his awaiting valve and his optics staring right back at Bulkhead’s. The contrasting glow between them, blue staring down at red, was very entrancing. Starscream’s looked almost soft for once, appreciative.

The thick digit nudged past the first two rings and Starscream gasped, optics going wide and unfocused. Bulkhead again had to chase those lips, catching them again and taking advantage of the jet’s earlier offer, biting lightly and it served to ground the seeker back into the moment. Kissing back feverishly and raising his hips, stilling them so the other could work, Starscream gave into the kiss eagerly. Up close the other wasn’t so formidable, he could take him, the back of his mind reasoned.

He could take down this broad green mech, he just had more mass, but height wise Starscream at least didn’t feel intimidated for the most part. Primus be damned if this Autobot didn’t have some sort of gift with those servos. His mind was pulled back to the feeling of being stretched, the almost searing heat rising up his abdomen and making him rock his hips suddenly and both mechs stilled. The digit had slipped, Bulkhead had been pushing upward just as Starscream rocked down.

Bulkhead parted from the kiss but kept close. He watched the seeker’s face cycle through slight pain, then shock, and sheer bliss as his optics began to bleed out the excess energy there. The air between them seemed to crackle with the static that was rolling over the silver jet’s frame. The groan began low, in Starscream’s chest, but it grew and Bulkhead could only press his face into the other’s and muffle it. Starscream writhed anew, feeling more trapped than ever and trying his damndest to get more out of that masterful finger inside of him.

Bulkhead couldn’t keep his own spike in its housing, feeling the mech moving around like that, calipers gripping feebly as he finally started to thrust his finger in and out of him. He was careful, even though Starscream was a piece of Decepticon scrap he wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability, not like this. When his array snapped back he grunted, himself, against the slight mech’s lips and moved his free hand down, stroking himself and leaning more heavily on the medical slab’s edge.

Between brief pauses in their mouths moving against each other sloppily Starscream managed meager pleading “more”s and “deeper”s. Bulkhead drove his hand in and out of him faster and harder until he could feel that lithe frame bounce from the hard impact. He hit the other’s ceiling node from the deep penetration and force and Starscream squealed static, his vocalizer beginning to glitch and give clicking popping sounds along with his begging. He sounded breathless now, fans and vents running as hot and swiftly as they could, even his facial vents giving huffs of heated air to cool himself.

Bulkhead almost chuckled when he heard the crack and pop of the seeker’s vocalizer resetting and trying to boot. He took advantage to lean back and watch, enjoying how the other’s body bounced and jerked, thrusting his hand harder and faster, the other matching pace on his own spike.

“You like it, don’t ya Screamer? Say it, you say it. You love being finger fragged by me so much, you WISH you could have this spike?” Bulkhead’s field began to gain in audacity and his boldness pressed down on Starscream. The dominating feeling pressing over him combined with the wrecker’s maddening pace would send Starscream into a mind-shattering overload. His spike shot hot jets of transfluid and his valve gushed lubricant, and still that hand kept driving in, splattering the liquids all over his thighs and making the most lewd sounds imaginable.

His head was pressed back but still no sound came out, unable to manage more than tiny squeaks and clicks. When his vocalizer did reset he was panting and gasping out in Vosian dialect, still praising the other and calling him things Megatron would only DREAM of being called by his most loyal subjects. Bulkhead was transfixed, listening to the exotic clicking and breathy vocalizations, meant only for his audials. He had no clue what was being said but he could feel the passion and intent in each one.

Starscream was smiling. Actually smiling and pleased, something beckoning in his body and welcoming the continued treatment. It was almost enough to send Bulkhead over the edge, but something else sent him over the edge. Physically, over the edge of the berth. The sub par medical slab groaned at its base and gave, snapping and releasing the energy binds that held Starscream and it gave under Bulkhead’s weight having been pressing on the edge of it so hard. The two toppled into one another and the berth quickly followed, all of them clattering in a pile on the floor.

Bulkhead was stunned and on his back, Starscream half on top of him and no longer trapped on the medical table. Reality came crashing back to the Autobot like a lobbing-ball to the face and he realized how badly he had fragged up, and now the Decepticon was loose! He was surely going to assault him and make his escape and it was all Bulkhead’s fault for buying into the needy act.

Starscream was dazed and on his front, something heavy on his legs but it slid off when he began to shift. He blinked a few times and saw Bulkhead below him, his processor struggling to catch up with what had happened. The Autobot looked all out of sorts, and had both his hands on the ground to hold himself up. Starscream moved his arms and found they could, in fact, move. He placed them lightly on the broad green mech’s center and pulled himself closer, finding the heavy's spike pressurized and trapped between that big belly and the seeker.

A wicked grin crossed his face and he rolled his hips. “Looks like I get to try that spike after all,” he breathed out contently and silenced the confused mech with a biting, fierce kiss. The jet would indeed assault the Autobot, and the Autobot let him. It was amazing, every second of it. Starscream had kicked the broken metal slab away from him and pushed Bulkhead down, grinding on the thick spike. It was not as long or dangerous as the insecticon and for that, the heated Air Commander was glad.

He raised himself up and pushed his well prepared entrance down on the shaft. The fit was still incredibly snug, the spike as broad as he hoped it would be and longer than that marvelous single finger, which meant all the more fun for the greedy bird. Starscream sat back and smoothed his clawed servos sinuously down his frame, raising himself up and dropping back down on the spike in an utterly debauched display of pleasure.

No one could stifle his cries now, praising Bulkhead in the language he knew. “You’re simply splendid, Bulkhead! What a treasure you are! Such a treat for an Autobot!” He continued in his compliments and allowed his valve’s calipers to thank him in their own right, clenching and relaxing at alternating times so the heavy had no idea when to brace himself for a tight pull or a snug grind of their arrays. Starscream arched as he bounced himself on the other’s spike and Bulkhead reached out, his large servos encompassing that petite waist.

He helped balance and move the other, making their hips collide even faster and Starscream was grateful, oh so grateful for the helping hands! His legs were aching from being parted so wide and this allowed him more freedom. He felt a shift suddenly and was moved back, Bulkhead sitting up. He had to hug onto the other’s large torso, so warm and big for him to lean into and grasp hold of. He smiled playfully up at Bulkhead and the delight was mutual. Again his body began to move but it was very tight, short jerks and the Autobot was finally nearing climax, and Starscream his second. Together, bodies giving off steam and slamming together in the middle, they both gave long and intense cries of pleasure.

Starscream spilled his transfluid in the tight space between his midsection and the other’s, his valve burning with the sought after heat of the wrecker’s essence and his own rush of lubricants rushing out. The filling didn’t seem to stop for a while, Bulkhead shuddering and holding the jet down tightly on his thick spike. He could feel every twitch, every throb and every ounce of liquid filling his slick valve. He clenched down, not wanting to miss a single drop. He was snuggling against the wrecker’s round torso happily, inventing and exventing in short bursts as he cooled down post interface.

Finally Bulkhead seemed to relax and come around, giving his best lopsided smirk. “So uh… guess I’ll have some explaining to give to Ratchet… You’re not gonna try anything funny are you?”

“Me?” Starscream tried to sound affronted but he was deeply amused, cheek resting on the other’s chest and optics shuttering, still filled to the brim with that spike. “Promise me another frag like that sometime and I’ll give you whatever alibi you want.” The Decepticon was making no plans to run off any time soon, and Bulkhead had no choice but to trust him for now. They began to disengage their arrays from one another, the mess absolutely ridiculous. Bulkhead couldn’t help but stare at how much of his transfluid was leaking out of the jet’s plump valve, and how much was till inside judging by the taut looking torso.

The Autobot would usher Starscream, or carried him really, into the medbay’s emergency washracks. There was no alarm to sound like in a real medical bay since it was there just for Ratchet’s convenience when the main racks were running low on warm solvent. Starscream would be within view, then, so Bulkhead could get the lab cleaned up. All but the broken berth, obviously. He could only try his best to wipe away the evidence of what happened there. He was going to get the scolding of a lifetime from Ratchet, and he was still trying to work up the excuses in his head as he cleaned.

* * *

Just out of sight in the base’s main hallway leading deeper into the base the feared Autobot medic was on his knees and one hand, the other still firmly affixed to his spent spike. He kneaded the tip lightly between his sensitive thumb and forefinger. He’d been woken from his recharge long before the medical table had been broken by those two idiots.

He’d heard the keening and worried the other would make Bulkhead uncomfortable, but he was shocked when he had seen the wrecker all over their prisoner. He was fascinated, unable to speak up or interrupt, and he supposed it was all these years of seeing nothing but pain and suffering that this shocking instance of two Cybertronians wanting to give pleasure instead had kept him hidden away. He couldn’t tear his optics from it, both of them giving and taking from their heated exchange.

The lab being damaged was simply to be expected with Bulkhead, and he nearly charged in but he couldn’t. He slunk back, servos moving to himself. Ratchet hadn’t felt this… this AROUSED in a long time and he knew not to stress his systems. The energy he’d have to spend calming down was more than it would take to just handle his business from the hidden away spot around the entrance to the base’s internal corridor.

Starscream was breath taking, riding on top of that spike like he was built for the task and Ratchet nearly bit a knuckle as he stroked himself in time to the show. He’d save this memory away somewhere for later playback, of that he was sure. As their pace intensified into rough grinding and bucking he had to turn away, sinking down to his knees and his free hand below him, still pumping his spike in time to the sound of their arrays colliding in metallic clangs and wet squelches.

When they peaked, so too did the Autobot medic, his transfluid spurting out in a few hot jets on the floor. He panted softly, internal fans working well to take care of any heating issues. He listened as the two spoke and he knew he couldn’t conveniently waltz in. Ratchet pulled a cloth from his subspace and wiped the mess up, being a very small one, and pulled himself back to his pedes. His frame almost rattled from how exhausting that little endeavor was and he shuffled off quietly to return to his seldom seen quarters.

Bulkhead wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t smart just then however, but he wasn’t dumb enough to fully trust their enemy to wander the base just because he’d been a good frag. They had holding cells, Starscream was without the means to blast through metal, he trusted the wrecker to take the correct actions to look after their ‘guest’.

Ratchet only wished he had something harder to drink than energon in his room. What he’d give for a swig of Enjex to help come down after such a show, he thought as he left the other two to their cleanup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dyslexic and kept writing Breakdown instead of Bulkhead but I fixed it I swear! He'll get his turn down the road. Ohhhh Transformers puns ahhahha... get it? He's a car? And he'll... down the road... Ahh... *walks away*


	4. The Heat Stifles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is letting his heat get the best of him and get on his rescuers last nerves. He really might just need a medical professional's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not beta read and I'm posting this before work. I'm sorry in advance for weird typos! I usually only spot them once I can re-read it from my phone so I'll edit tonight ;w;
> 
> Oh also headcanons about sparking and protoforms and all that jazz.
> 
> ALSO non sexual use of medical equipment and procedure. Not gore or anything heavy, just Ratchet being a good doctor.

**** **The Heat Stifles**

 

 

Starscream felt amazing if he was being honest with himself. He could only somewhat see the bulky green mech shuffling around and cleaning up, lifting the medical slab with ease with those big, strong arms that held him and manipulated him so easily a short moment ago. The other wasn’t a pervert either, not leering over while the sultry seeker cleaned himself, and for that he was grateful. His heat may have driven him to some extreme measures as of yet, but he did know when rest was due.

Against the demands of his heat coding he sent the order to open his innermost chambers. It opened for his manual command and the now semi thick substance began to slide out, giving the jet a chill from the not pleasant sensation. It cooled as soon as it left him, becoming a cold slime along his thighs. He whisked it away with careful claws, directing the spray of solvents over himself and glad to see it break down the material quickly. Just as he’d done once already on this turbulent bout of heat he slid his long slender digits within himself, keeping his unwanted moans silent and working to drag out the last of the thick liquid.

He had to clean himself quickly, not wanting the fullness in his valve to trigger anything new in his protocols. He’d heard of mechs tempting fate too much and trying out their naughty berthroom fantasies, letting somebody fill them up and then resuming their day like it was nothing, just to get themselves and their partner off with the idea of such a scandalous act, only to find themselves feeling ill or half sparked.

To be half sparked was to have ones body start building a protoform on its own, feeding into a lifeless frame. In the olden days mechs might have coined such actions as ‘leaving it to Primus’, but that was in reference to bots that actually PLANNED on having offspring but were too afraid to bare their spark to their partners and hoping for a spark to be granted from The Well of Allsparks by chance alone. Those that played with such fire for their own fantasies, gallivanting about town with a tank full of transfluid, could end up with an unwanted little miracle, their body deciding to begin on a frame and Primus planting the seed of life for them.

Most likely, however, for such foolish bots that did this it would end up with a mech’s body putting energy into a useless frame and never even realizing. They often went undetected even after being cleaned out, as rarely back then did mechs think it necessary to go to a professional to get cleaned out, figuring it was all in good fun without any bonding. The protoform would begin to wither in the carrier and cause them extreme pain and, when not caught in time, cost them their gestation tank or even their life if rust set in. Call the snobby seeker crazy, but that was NOT his idea of a good time.

He knew it was even more likely to not be saved by a miracle of Primus with The Well not exactly functioning enough to go handing out sparks. He would only truly grant his urges a sparkling if he bonded fully with some mech, and he simply would not. He’d just diligently clean himself and trust the medic to check him regularly without questioning him. That menacing crankshaft of a doctor wasn’t too terrible after all, he mused, flicking the last of the transfluid from his fingers and standing straight in the shower.

The Autobot medic had taken a risk on him, took a gamble that perhaps he’d be worth more to them as a live prisoner than a dead problem solved. He wouldn’t mind repaying the other’s brilliant thinking, rescuing him and fixing him up. He needed more help, too, noting during his self cleaning that some of his calipers were misaligned and pinching. Even now he felt the dull ache in his valve. If he was lucky maybe the light discomfort would deter his heat from getting too heady again.

The seeker faced the warm solvent spray directly, optics shuttered and sighing as it washed over him, helping him clear his processor and begin planning. He was a captive, ultimately, and though the large green oaf had been swayed into being extra friendly he highly doubted any of the others would be so understanding. Where would he be kept now? They had nowhere to strap him down unless they were hiding conveniently stashed away medical slabs. Stasis cuffs would be used, most likely. He would have to make sure he-THUMP.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his heels at the sudden noise so close to him and tried to turn around but his now raised wings smacked into a wall and he lost his balance, sending his pedes skittering on the damp flooring and, with losing his brief battle with gravity, fell smack on his aft with a howl. Bulkhead was staring down at the other over the top of the foggy glass barrier and looked surprised, himself, and a bit guilty.

“Jeez, sorry Screamer, I was just trying to see if you were alright.” He could hardly believe he was apologizing to the Decepticon but it was an accident. Seeing the other as needy and vulnerable as he had, and now the utter shock and fear on his face was enough to make anyone feel bad for startling him. Then in a flash the seeker’s temper flared.

“WHAT IN THE PIT WERE YOU THINKING?! I could have been seriously hurt!” He shouted and began to pull himself up, bracing his servos on the walls and already feeling a crick in one of his wings, having pressed it at an unnatural angle during the fall. Bulkhead opened the door to the racks and tried to help, reaching in only to be swiped at by the other’s sharp claws, sparks scraping off his arm from the vicious impact. Starscream glared daggers at the other and Bulkhead was confused, then annoyed. He’d almost been tricked into feeling sorry for this con, he was too trusting sometimes. He shut the door hard and started to march away, leaving Starscream a bit confused but relieved.

The jet huffed and righted himself, checking for any damage and trying to resume his shower, shuttering his optics into the spray. He’d use every last drop of their solvent stores if he wanted. His thoughts were again interrupted but this time by the shower door swinging open. A heavy force shoved him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him and causing a bit of panic. He tried to reach around himself, swiping at the force pressing on his wings painfully. One wrist was snatched, then another, and they were cuffed behind himself. Then his wings, the outermost and largest, were squeezed back tightly and he felt weight clamping around them and keeping them pinned back.

He sputtered in anger and was pulled off balance again, being dragged backwards from the shower by his arms. It strained the shoulder joints and he had to bend forward over himself, backpedaling to keep up. The heavy steps told him it was Bulkhead, solvent having gotten in his optics and blurring them temporarily.

“YOU INSOLENT OAF! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I’M INJURED! YOU CAN’T TREAT ME LIKE THIS!” He fell and couldn’t get his pedes back under him, the Autobot never stopped, and he was dragged the rest of the way to the unknown destination. He was weightless one moment and then landed heavily on his side the next, sliding on a hard unforgiving concrete floor.

“You didn’t seem that injured when you were beggin’ to be fragged,” Bulkhead snuffed, no longer sympathetic to the other’s plight. Blinking several times Starscream cleared his vision and looked around quickly, finding himself surrounded on all three sides, with an equally sturdy ceiling and flooring. Behind Bulkhead he could see cells with barriers and tightly sealed security doors.

“A CELL?! Honestly, your medic will NOT be pleased,” Starscream was already trying to talk his way out of this one. “First you broke his medical table, then you hurt his patient, threw his patient in a cold, hard _cell_?? Come now, just…” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Just unbind me and I swear I won’t tell him what you did.” He pursed his lips in a little smirk up at him.

“… Goodnight Starscream.” He hit the keypad outside the cell and the field materialized, giving the room a feint blue tint, then the doors slammed shut.

“Tsk… Isn’t that just-” The overhead lights cut out, leaving him in darkness save for the blue glow across from him. “…. perfect.” He growled and tried to move into a more comfortable position, sitting up on his knees, then on one side, then his stomach, and then his other side. His arms being behind him was bothersome and he tried to bring them under his aft and hopefully loop his arms over his slim legs and he’d have them in front and be far more capable of movement. They became wedged under his thighs, the cuffs taking up more room on his forearms than he’d thought. He couldn’t slide them down more than under his knees and he tried to pull them back but his sockets were aching by then.

He stopped and panted, curled over himself on his side and essentially hugging his legs to himself. The jet gave a sniff of disdain to the silence of the room and tried to be still and recover enough to try again. Starscream ended up passing out at some point, huddled up in the middle of the floor and holding himself in a loose ball. When he awoke to darkness he began to panic. Where was the blue ambiance? The LIGHT? His wings were heavy, still bound, and he began to struggle against his binds, wrists still pinned under his legs. “WHAT’S GOING ON?!?! TURN THE LIGHTS ON YOU MONSTERS!! LET ME OUT!! UNCHAIN ME!!”

His thrashing became panicked and he couldn’t get free in any sense of the word, fans kicking on from the stress and vents hitching erratically. Everything was too confining, he was on cold bitter ground, trapped, pinned and he couldn’t see how far the walls were anymore. They felt so small, like he would touch one at any moment and the thought of being in a smaller space made him scream and shriek all the more. He switched to the higher pitched clicks and screeches of Vos, demanding he be given decent treatment, then begging.

* * *

Ratchet had been surprisingly understanding about the broken lab equipment, assuring Bulkhead it could be fixed and they’d needed a sturdier operating table anyway. He pretended not to notice the tint of color from washed away transfluid in the bottom of the wash rack and asked idly where Bulkhead put the jet without asking any other detailed questions, not even questioning HOW the other broke it.

“I threw him in the brig,” he huffed. “He was trying to get smart with me, talk me into.. stuff… so I put some stasis cuffs on him and got him squared away.” Ratchet nodded and seemed satisfied with that.

“We’ll need to check him periodically. I received a direct comm from Optimus, we’ll have the team back within the day so we can tell them soon enough.” Ratchet cleaned what he could and organized, figuring the others might need minor repairs when they returned after such a long mission.

“You didn’t tell him over comms?” Bulkhead watched the medic curiously.

“No need to go making them rush back here. Optimus has to attend a meeting with Agent Fowler to disclose their findings on MECH.” The heavy duty mech nodded, accepting the other’s reasoning and not questioning his judgment. “I’ll go check on Starscream in a minute. You should rest.” Bulkhead shifted from pede to pede.

“I uh, I was thinking about blowing off some steam. Think its safe enough for a ride? We haven’t done any foot patrols since the others headed out, might be a good idea.” He really wanted to get out of the base for a bit.

“Don’t go too far, I’ll comm. You directly if I need your help.” Bulkhead nodded and headed out with that, transforming and driving out of the main entrance of their base. The medic got to work on a side project, trying to get back to helping Starscream with his heat. He fashioned a smooth, slim tool, something shiny and after a bit of patience, sterilized it. If he couldn’t get Starscream a spike then he’d give him a false one. Ratchet took up a syringe of tranquilizer, feeling he’d wasted quite a bit on the jet already, but if it made examinations easier he’d use it. He brought his kit with some extra tools he may need as he hadn’t done a thorough examination of the other’s valve. Now with Bulkhead having had a go at the seeker, he was sure the other would be aching.

The closer he got to the brig the more he heard distant screaming and shouting, the far away sound almost haunting in the otherwise silent halls. He stepped into the dark wing of the base and the motion sensor kicked on, activating the lights, the heavy duty fixtures kicking on one after another, lighting down the entire row of cell doors. He still heard the screaming, coming from an otherwise unoccupied cell. He slid open the viewing window and saw darkness. What the…? There should be a field here. He looked to the cell behind it to be sure he wasn’t crazy. So shields were down, but the doors were up? The lights were working…?

The medic cursed at the realization it may have something to do with their energon fuel supply running low, which also meant no ground bridging for a while. He went back to the first cell, hearing Starscream wailing in long stretches of a language not known to him, then light clattering of metal on concrete. He cursed and opened the door, ready for the other to spring out at him.

The light hit the jet and he gasped, flinching back, then saw the medic instead of that burly brute and had never been so happy to see the grumpy Autobot. He began pleading with him, dialect still nothing but chittering gibberish to the other. Ratchet’s optics were wide as he took in the sight of the proud Air Commander doubled over and face streaked with washer fluid tears. He hadn’t thought Bulkhead would be THIS rough with the prisoner, not after he witnessed him, well, having such a _good time_ with him the night before!

He hurried in and tried to hush the other, who only spoke faster and more urgently when he was close enough. He’d have to try and untangle him, reaching around the jet to try and grab the stasis cuffs and held one of those slender wrists in case he were to try anything. “I’m going to unshackle you but if you attack me it will NOT end well for you.” He still couldn’t make out what Starscream was saying but it didn’t sound hostile. He unlocked the other’s wrists and the other’s arms remained limp behind him. “Are you hurt? How are you shoulders? Talk to me here Starscream, I can’t understand yOUMPH-!”

Words stolen from his lips, the jet’s intake covering his own. Ratchet had no hold on the other’s arm now, and both delicate limbs moved up on either side of the medic to lay lazily over his shoulders. Ratchet tried to move his helm back to break the kiss but Starscream followed, soon climbing into the other’s lap and now his arms closed over the other, behind his neck and moaning against his lips.

The medic brought his hand up to the seeker’s chest, slowly adding pressure to push them apart so he could speak with him. When their lips parted both of their faceplates were flush. Starscream seemed to be coming out of some sort of haze and licked his derma lightly.

“I… I’m sorry, I… I was frightened and you rescued me again,” he trilled at the medic, the sound doing something to the Autobot and making him grow warmer. “I… You’re well aware I can’t help my actions, but this, ooh doctor I _want_ this. Let me repay you, please?” Blue optics became unfocused but then whirled down and he cleared his intake.

“Its alright, Starscream, I understand.” He tried to sound professional and began to move the other, getting another excited chirp from him but he had to disappoint him. “I need to examine you, I wasn’t able to check you _internally_ as well as I would have preferred. I wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”

“Oh I think its more than fine, _doctor~_ ” Starscream leaned back from him and Ratchet helped to slid the other’s arms from around his shoulders. He brought the stasis cuffs back up before Starscream had a chance to process this and snapped them back on, this time allowing the jet’s arms to be in front of him. The tension rose in the room and Starscream’s optics darkened. “Honestly, such little faith in me.” He sneered and said nothing when Ratchet didn’t retort back.

The medic moved him down to his side, having to make do as they were right here on the floor. He raised the other’s leg into the air and was surprised to see the jet never closed his panel and he’d cleaned himself very well.

“I’m going to be inserting a tool, called--”

“Spare me, Autobot. The only thing worse than being examined is being told what’s happening in excruciating detail AS its happening. I trust you aren’t going to weld me shut or torture me, just… on with it, if you would.” Ratchet could hear how much the other was refraining from letting his temper out, imagining mostly he was frustrated again due to his heat and not getting attention back from the Autobot.

He got to work, pulling the long leg high up and having Starscream hold it, which only irritated the other further at having to ‘help’. A cold tool began to slide into his valve and he hissed loudly. Ratchet stopped and looked up, but the other answered his unasked question. “C-COLD!” He looked down his chest and torso toward the goings-on by his hips.

“Well I could’ve warned you if you didn’t want me to be quiet.” Fair point, the jet thought, and seemed to calm down until the tool went deeper still. He heard popping, clicking noises, a bit of wiggling, and the speculum began to open wider, spreading his valve walls and pushing out on his lining. It kept going, straining his calipers slightly and the ache in the few that he’d noticed earlier was coming back.

“Have you felt any discomfort here since… the incident?” Ratchet was uncomfortable with the question himself but carried on with the exam, sliding another smooth tool, a narrow rod with a smooth semi-sphere at the end. He used it to glide against the exposed valve walls, feeling it rise and drip very slightly over each caliper behind the tender and stressed mesh.

“I, yes, I have actually. A little deeper I noticed it while Bulkhead allowed me a moment to freshen up. I suppose he felt bad, seeing something so marvelous looking so beat up, and uh, he, he had come to check on me and leaned on the table-” He began to prattle on, trying to cover just how he’d been taken off the table but Ratchet didn’t care.

“Just tell me when I reach it, Starscream. I’ll be as gentle as I can.” There was silence and he looked up, seeing the seeker staring down at him, nervous but trying his best to put a little faith in him. He nodded his okay and the Autobot continued deeper into the valve. Only 6 hidden rings in and he rolled the tool against the edge of one and felt Starscream twitch.

“There,” he spoke softly. “It aches a little, I’m not sure how serious it is.” Ratchet nodded, knowing the jet was still watching. He moved to grab another tool, similar to the one still inserted, and slid it in alongside it. He could only see so far into the valve but with his sensitive servos he could feel exactly where he needed to go.

“It isn’t too serious, I should be able to treat it right here but… I’ll be honest, it will hurt more to set it back in place.” Starscream bit down on his lower lip at that.

“Just… maybe you can numb it? I know you field medics have a way of dulling pain receptors.”

“I won’t be able to tell if it isn’t hurting anymore if I do that,” he sighed. “My scanner isn’t perfect, otherwise I would’ve known exactly where to go and fix it instead of examining you so thoroughly like this.” Starscream was being fairly calm and reasonable, being that an incredibly vulnerable part of him was in the Autobot’s hands, both literally and figuratively.

“That makes sense, I suppose,” he sighed and shifted, readjusting his hold on his leg. “Alright, do what you must.” Ratchet nodded and manipulated the two tiny rods, moving one deeper and over the top of the caliper and then pulled, holding the tools on either side of the ring hidden by soft inner walls. The other’s heat coding was providing plenty of natural lubricant so that was very helpful. Slowly it went around, the medic having to pause and move around the first tool that had widened the entrance, then resumed.

He found the tiny part where the calipers were supposed to overlap like a sort of miniature sliding track. He hooked the tool harder against the caliper, pulled up and over and pushed the track side of the caliper under and it snapped into place with a click and a shout from the Air Commander, followed by a flood of curses as his body began to shake. The valve clenched against the tool desperately, unable to close down but the reset caliper moved and tightened as it should.

“I warned you it’d hurt, don’t go blaming me now,” he huffed down at the seeker. Starscream was no longer looking at him, instead pouting and looking at a far wall determinedly. “What? Silent treatment? No ‘thank you’?”

“Thank you, doctor,” he gave tersely and almost growled. “There’s still more further in.” Ratchet sighed and resumed his work, Starscream telling him where and the medic examining and fixing. Four in all, four calipers realigned and no longer causing him discomfort. He was still trembling from the initial jolts of pain of having the inner rings snapped back on their tracks and the medic would not goad him now. He carefully began to loosen the speculum, easing it out of the other and putting away his used tools in a sanitary bag.

“I have one more.. thing you might be able to use on your own.” He pulled out the smooth, long metal shaft. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t tiny, and Starscream smirked the second he laid his optics on it.

“Oh, a false spike for me? You shouldn’t have,” he cooed as if he were receiving a gift of affection. “Oh, doctor, why don’t you demonstrate how I should use it?” He hiked his leg higher, showing off his valve just to try and make the other uncomfortable. Ratchet frowned and his face grew a little warm. “You know I’d prefer the real thing, but I’ll try to make do with your lovely gift.” He lowered his leg and began to sat up, holding his servos out for it, both palms open and close together from the cuffs.

Ratchet placed the smooth tool in the other’s servos and Starscream examined it, genuinely enough trying to appreciate its use. “It’ll be easier than trying to use your fingers,” he cleared his intake and tried to sound very matter-of-fact. “Don’t go playing too much, or too roughly, it’s… not flexible like the real thing.”

“Mm I see that. It’s very… narrow. Has nothing to grab onto at the end, you know? I feel like it might get lost in there,” the jet chuckled. “So tiny and sleek. Tell me, doctor, did you model it after yourself?”

Ratchet blustered and angrily began to gather his tools into his kit, slapping them into the toolbox he’d carried them in with force he’d scold anyone else for using.

“Goodness me, it was a joke, I don’t think yours is so… _dainty_ ,” he chuckled more. “You just haven’t shown me, how am I to know?”

“You won’t know, you’re not supposed to know or even CARE! You keep blaming your coding for your actions, but your words are far more telling Starscream. Right now, the one thing that usually gets you out of a mess is just digging you deeper into a pit. I can see right through your little games. You got to Bulkhead, you WON’T get to me.”

Starscream blinked up at the medic, sitting back slightly as the other shouted and and then towered over him. The other was essentially accusing him of toying around.

“I… suppose you’re right.” He pouted. “I’m in heat, clearly this is all a ploy to get at your precious Autobot secret weapons: your spikes. You’ve really found me out, Ratchet. Truly a master sleuth you are. Should have been a spy with skills like those.” Ratchet growled down at the other. “OF COURSE I’ll try anything to get your spike you old fool!” He threw the metal toy across the room and missed Ratchet entirely, though it wasn’t clear if he was aiming to begin with.

“You’re not going to be playing any more of your twisted mind games with anyone else here, I’ll weld your mouth shut if I have to!”

“JUST SPIKE ME ALREADY! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! You know its the only thing I want and you’re too STUBBORN AND CROTCHETY to let yourself believe otherwise!” Starscream brought himself up to his knees. “My coding, this blasted thing that makes me so desperate, I’ve already ALLOWED an insecticon to abuse me, and I’ve invited an Autobot to take me...” He huffed a bit, anger deflating as he stated his sorry condition. “Don’t make me beg for another.”

Ratchet searched the other’s optics, wanting to find the lie. “Why do you act as if its some game? Like you enjoy teasing others instead of treating it like the serious medical condition it is?”

“I tried that, I begged and cried when you brought me in here. Bulkhead didn’t buy it, so I had to play around, get him riled up, and then he gave me one of the best frags I’ve had in AGES,” he said it proudly, recalling his last bout with the large mech. “And I would do it again if it got this itch out of my plating for just a second. I NEED it, and I WILL have it. If you won’t frag me like a real mech, then send Bulkhead back in here! He knows how to handle a Vosian in heat.”

“Alright alright! You want someone to handle you so badly I’ll handle you,” he groused as if he was being dragged into some horrible chore.

Ratchet dropped the toolbox with a loud clatter and moved down over Starscream in a surprisingly fast motion for an old mech. Starscream gasped into his intake as the biting kiss came over him, the medic pushing himself half over the other’s lap and holding the seeker’s helm with both hands. The hungry jet melted against the other’s wonderfully heated frame. Oh he’d been burning up this whole time, hadn’t he? That wasn’t concentration during the exam, it was pent up NEED. His mouth was free and the medic was biting and suckling down the seeker’s neck cables, sensitive lines that few were allowed or even able to tease and he moaned softly for him.

Arms were pinned between their bodies and Starscream did what he could to try and provoke the other further, fingers moving toward Ratchet’s panel. The Autobot pulled the other’s helm back to glare down at him. “NO, you keep your hands to yourself since you apparently can’t take care of anything on your own.” The command in his tone made Starscream’s optics flutter and his still trapped wings twitched.

“O-One favor, before we start,” he panted but was silenced by another bruising kiss. That medic was having none of it and he moaned again at the enthusiasm. Bulkhead had been powerful, but it all stemmed from his general, well, _bulk_. Ratchet was in a different league, his body smaller and compact but heavy duty in his own right. He’d been a force to be reckoned with when he’d been on the battlefield in years not so long ago. This shelved medic was so pent up he could taste the aggression built up in his field.

Ratchet pushed a hand between them, the other still holding onto Starscream’s helm. He pressed his middle most digit into the jet’s wet heat and he keened into his lips, exventing and trying to turn his face away. Ratchet let him and resumed his mouthing over the other’s neck cables. He hummed at the taste and the rush of control he had over the other. He began to push him to his back when Starscream went rigid and pushed back.

“Ah-! Please, my wings!” He protested and the medic paused, leaning back and realizing they were still just as bound as his wrists. He thought it over and snuffed.

“Too bad.” He pushed but angled the other to go to his side, similar to how he’d been laid out during the exam. “Get that leg up,” he demanded and again the seeker seemed to be delighted by the tone. He slowly raised his leg and Ratchet had no patience left, pushing it high up and making Starscream hold on. His bottom-most leg curled a bit but it only got so far with Ratchet straddling it. His finger pressed deeper and then back out, stroking over every nerve cluster he could find. He’d spied quite a few earlier and had been careful to work around them, but now he was going to go after as many as he was able.

The jet quivered and writhed, grip firm on his raised leg. “Oh-! Oh that’s so-! Mmn…! Sss...” He bit his lip and shuttered his optics. Ratchet added a second finger, then a third. After some manipulation he found the other was still using a wider setting on his calipers. He continued to stroke again and again, trying to coax them into bearing down but the medic in him was concerned. He slowed down and withdrew his hand, looking at the substance on his fingers.

The lubricant was sticky and cooling quickly, a healthy color as well. He huffed and used his clean hand to pull out a rag but Starscream reached out, letting his leg fall to wind loosely over the medic’s hip.

“Wait, let me?” He took the medic’s wrist lightly and pulled it closer to his face, leaning in and opening his intake. He closed his lips over the fingers and began to suck and moan over the fingers. His glossa moved slowly, lavishing the fingers with attention and going over every knuckle, each seam and making the Autobot rev his engine in response. He pulled back, sucking until the end and the digits slid out with a little wet pop. Ratchet wavered and took a moment, a few deep and slow exvents, and regained his senses. He wiped the fingers down and opened a small chest compartment, pulling a small cable out.

“I need to access one of your medical ports,” he huffed out and Starscream arched a silver brow.

“Well that’s a new one. Kinky for an ol--”

“YIP-IP-- That’s enough of that,” he scolded. “Open or I’ll pop one open for you.” Starscream opened the one along his lower torso. Ratchet plugged into it and waited to get through the foreign firewall. Once in he immediately began to calibrate coding. He could feel the heat coding all around, overriding normal protocol and overstimulating so many of the other’s normal systems. “Just relax.” The jet rolled his optics before he shuttered them, not sure what the other was up to. He felt his calipers flex down but that was nothing new as of late, the needy little bits they were.

Ratchet pulled back and unplugged from the other, tucking the medical connector away and leaning back, holding Starscream’s leg up since the other had given up on holding it himself. His fingers began to carefully trace over the outermost ring of the other’s valve, finding it far smaller than before. The jet sighed and shifted on his side, trying to get comfortable.

“Well? Did you run one last scan? Make sure I wasn’t carrying and dirty Decepticon disZEEESSUUEAHHH~!!” He broke into a long whining moan, writhing and grabbing his leg from the other, holding it for comfort and to feel steady. Three fingers pressed into him but it felt like a fist, it was so big inside of him! Was it the other’s fist?! Starscream looked down and could see Ratchet’s thumb just before it pushed into his exterior node and he jumped from the jolt of pleasure. The other was using his fingers, why was it so…?

“Oh~ doctor~ You cad!” He laughed softly and rolled his hips as much as he could. “You reset my valve? How bold of you. Mmmm I believe that’s a breach of doctor-patient relations, don’t you?” Ratchet gave a huff, amused that the other still ran his mouth after all this.

“Not exactly,” he corrected and moved his fingers out. Still nice and lubricated perfectly for entry. He angled the other’s hips and moved closer, pressing his closed panel against the other’s heat and ground into him slowly, making Starscream whine. “I just readjusted them down.” Another firm press of his hips and Starscream whimpered, mouth parting but only to vent through his intake. He used his thumb to resume pressing that sensitive node, enjoying each twitch and flinch of electricity it seemed to shoot through the seeker.

“Hnn~ I-I see,” he finally piped up. “And why exactly did you do that? Hm?” He tried to get more friction out of it, pressing back and his newly calibrated valve cycled down with need but got no satisfaction.

“For this,” Ratchet growled and snapped his panel back, still fully pressed against the valve. His spike pressurized swiftly and directly into the Decepticon’s valve. It was a perfect fit, the angle pushing every ridge and node into one of the seeker’s own. Starscream had no words, nothing to spout back outside of static as he threw his helm back and shook. An overload rocked through him very suddenly and Ratchet held tight to those thrashing hips. The jet squealed out in delight, unable to refrain from going back to his Vosian as he clicked and chirped at the other, keening happily and clenching again and again on that spike. Just as he began to come down from his high and adjust, Ratchet pulled back completely, the tip of his spike popping free and leaving the other to gasp.

“N-No, in in, back in, please!” He begged and his valve cycled again and again. Ratchet moved the head of his milky white shaft back into the snug ring, then rolled in a single motion to fill him fully. He slid back out and Starscream begged again. The pace was maddeningly slow after the overload he’d just had, his charge building up almost immediately and needing more.

“Don’t want you to orgasm again so quickly, Starscream. You’re no youngster yourself anymore.” Red optics snapped over to the other, a shock and anger behind them. He just… He just called HIM OLD???! This ancient medic just called him old! Sure they were roughly the same age but THAT WAS NOT THE POINT!

“Do NOT speak of a Vosian’s age you rude MMMNNNAAAHHH FFFFRAG~!!!” He was cut off by the other snapping his hips so hard he felt his hips vibrate in aftershock. His leg dropped a second time to hold the other’s waist to keep him there, servos moving to try and hold the other but Ratchet had other plans. He grabbed the cuffs and forced them onto the ground, Starscream now fully on his side except for his tilted hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself Starscream. Let the doctor work.” He began to buck into Starscream with enough force to put Bulkhead to shame. He bounced away, skidding on the floor and Ratchet acted quickly, his other hand grabbing the seeker’s thigh and raising it, letting his ankle rest on the medic’s broad shoulder. His arm hugged the other’s leg and he began to slam his hips into him, driving all the way in and almost completely out each time.

Starscream groaned and arched, squirming and moaning. That spike was everything he’d wanted from the medic, curving into him just right and brushing over those sensors again and again. He would hit him deep but not enough to make him cry out like Bulkhead had with that punishing press of his ceiling node every time. It was enough, however, keeping him full and stretched after tightening him up. He’d take this tune up from the Autobot over Knockout’s boring checks any day!

The pace was relentless and Starscream warned him of his impending overload, feeling his charge build up and threatening to sweep him away with it again, but Ratchet didn’t slow down, only moving faster and pushing him into it. He fell over the edge with a sweet cry of the other’s name and arched, twisting and contorting beautifully for the medic on the ground. His wings trembled in their confines and even that was lovely.

Ratchet never slowed, never took a break, just continued pounding into that slick valve even as Starscream came out of his overload. It was starting to drive him mad that there was no pause to it, no tiring of this medic. A third, a fourth, and a fifth orgasm were sending his body into tremors and his processor into a delirium. He asked the other questions in his native tongue, not realizing he was doing so and not caring that the other never answered. How? He just wanted to know how the other could keep going and not once be satisfied yet?

“Hah~ Ratchetttt--! AH! A-aren’t y-you ah-ah-AH! Alm-most th-e-ere?!” The medic loved hearing the other say his name, but loved hearing that his movements were jarring the other’s voice into a stutter.

“I’m a medic, Starscream, I’m built for stamina and I don’t stop until the job gets done. Now just let me work,” he purred down at him and shortened his thrusts, making them harder and doubled in speed. The jet screamed and clawed at the ground, still unable to move to cling onto the other as his coding wanted him to do. He was driving him wild, hitting him just right and his gestation tank was already open and begging to be sated.

 _This one. This one. I want this one. I want this one, this one is strong_.

Some primitive part of him found the other’s attributes as a mate entirely too satisfactory. He was a provider, he fed him, he took him in, protected him from the insecticon, repaired him, made him fit perfectly onto that spike of his and now he was proving his power through endurance, and his dominance was getting Starscream fired up. His calls were full of need and demanded the other to frag him into the floor, to fill him and make him his, and he would never let anyone else have the medic. He was HIS. Do it. DO IT. “DO IT!!!”

Ratchet snapped his hips forward one last time, hugging the other’s thigh tight to his torso while the other leg kicked straight out on the floor, both pedes pointing out and trembling as he came with the medic. The Autobot gave a heated shout as he tensed, completely seated in Starscream’s valve and letting go at last, his own charge shooting down him and into Starscream, the jet’s coming right back over him in return. SO much fluid hiding in that marvelous medic, it just never ended. His tank was completely full and Starscream chirped and trilled softly, helm laid back on the cement and glad for its cooler temperature now.

The two were still for a moment, coming down from their high and venting determinedly. Ratchet reached up Starscream’s body, carefully undoing the bindings on the other’s wings and moving Starscream to lay on his back, wings fluttering and stretching happily. He moved Starscream’s arms up over his helm, and as he sat back he let his fingers treat themselves, tracing over every inch of the other’s intricate torso, down his canopy and his thicker cables. Starscream hummed pleasantly, stretching for him and rubbing his thigh over the other’s hip.

“Care for another round?” Ratchet asked, voice heavy and full of his own lust. Starscream fidgeted and Ratchet got the hint, moving the other’s trapped leg so both were now hooked over his hips.

“Only if my doctor recommends it.” He laughed as his body was bounced from a rough clap of their arrays, Ratchet setting off at a determined pace once more. The medic would not tell Starscream he’d been babbling out loud the entire time. He wouldn’t embarrass the other, or hold it against him. He would also remember everything the other said. He wanted Ratchet to fill him, to claim him, and he would never let anyone else have the medic. It was one of the few times he couldn’t seem to tell if the other was lying or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL THERE YOU GO Ratchet is on board the love train as well. Hope you all enjoyed it. More to come!


	5. The Heat Fractures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this got more involved than I thought it would. As with most smut writers, I'm sure, this is turning into more feelsy than smutty. Mmm gotta drink in those Starscream feels. Our favorite medic is becoming Starscream's favorite, too! Knockout will probably be jealous if or when he finds out.

**The Heat Fractures**

 

 

A myriad of blue optics stared into the open cell. Starscream’s wings twitched behind him. He was curled up on one side, stasis cuffs over his wrists and held close to himself as he slumbered in a curled position. He would look almost peaceful if not for the constant thrum of his internal fans and vents working overtime to continue dispelling excess heat away from his frame.

Optimus and his team had returned on wheels rather than enjoying a brisk walk through the ground bridge, only grateful that their last trek in their journey was not terribly far. Ratchet had immediately asked to speak with Optimus in private, pulling him aside to advise him as quietly as he could of their unplanned guest. Unfortunately nothing in the tiny base was kept secret for more than a nanosecond these days with prying audials so close at hand. Bumblebee made a loud tone of surprise at what he’d conveniently overheard of their whispers, shouting Starscream’s name questioningly in his binary voice and catching Arcee’s attention.

“Starscream is here?? IN the base???” She approached the now open conversation, not looking pleased. The medic rubbed his temple and heaved a sigh.

“That is correct. Due to unforeseen circumstances he needed our help.” He looked back to their leader, the epitome of patience and understanding as he awaited Ratchet’s continued explanation. “With you out of comm range I made an executive decision. Bulkhead came with me as backup and our coordinates were locked in the ground bridge. I’ll need to discuss the finer details with you IN PRIVATE.” He directed the last part toward Bumblebee and Arcee. The scout edged back and poked his fingers together in a guilty fashion. Arcee merely folder her arms, waiting to act based on Prime’s reaction.

“I see. Thank you, Ratchet, for acting with as many precautions as you were able. Am I safe in assuming he called you to request medical assistance in exchange for information?”

“That would be... correct, mostly,” Ratchet tried to keep the troubled waver out of his throat. “The decision was made to bring him back to base almost as soon as we saw him. He was not a threat in that moment and we’ve locked him in the brig with Stasis cuffs, and it hasn’t been more than a day that he’s been cooped up.”

“This occurred yesterday?” Optimus began moving, Ratchet quickly jumping into motion beside him. The tall mech kept his pace calm and felt no reason to not have his team behind him at the ready.

“Yes, he was unconscious for most of it. I patched him up to the best of my abilities, and then we had some issues in the medical bay, what with our equipment collapsing,” he grumbled and Optimus nodded once, knowing not to open that can of worms and have to listen to the medic bring up his many valid complaints over their lack of adequate supplies.

When they entered the tucked back wing of the base that housed their cells, or vault as they’d sometimes called it, the lights were already on with Bulkhead standing watch outside of Starscream’s cell. The green mech perked up at seeing the others had returned safe and sound, albeit dusty and in need of some R&R. Catching the serious look to Optimus’ set brow and considering where they’d just arrived he knew that right now wasn’t the time for jolly pleasantries. He stepped away from the cell door silently to face it along with the others.

“As you’re aware,” Ratchet spoke up, “Due to whatever issue is preventing the ground bridge from functioning, the energy wall behind the door is also down. Don’t be alarmed, it isn’t some trick of _his_.” “He” would be Starscream, who had been kept _well_ within his and Bulkhead’s sight since his arrival. Optimus nodded in the affirmative and opened the cell.

The light fell upon the prone form and the group tensed, half expecting him to lurch at them screeching like a rabid spark eater. Instead he gave a soft wheeze and shifted, curling tighter to himself on the unforgiving cold ground. Arcee felt the urge to initiate her battle protocols and Bee was very much feeling anxious, clenching and relaxing his digits in anticipation. Bulkhead could feel the tension from his teammates and when he spoke up, the smallest team members nearly flinched.

“He’s been out for a while, probably won’t move until someone tries to shake him or offer him fuel.” He looked in at the seeker, not sure why he seemed so pitiful. He’d been manipulated once already, a shame he would not bring to light for the others to judge him on. Even so, he couldn’t help but wish they’d had a bit of fore-thought to bring him some light padding to keep his body from resting so uncomfortably on the floor.

The Autobot leader began into the cell, much to the team’s, or at least Arcee and Bumblebee’s, dismay, calling out to him to wait. They were still entirely unconvinced that this wasn’t some Decepticon trick. Optimus paused to turn and reassure them. “Please stay back, but stay ready.” The two nodded and seemed to brace themselves. Bulkhead felt a little off for being so comfortable around the treacherous enemy in their midst but he still squared his pedes just in case. Ratchet walked in and Optimus allowed it, knowing that his trusted friend could explain anything clinically should he have any questions.

He stared down at the rasping seeker for a moment, the shifting of shadows cast by his frame over the other’s face drawing no reaction from him. He stepped one pede back and slowly sank into a kneel to have a closer look. Something definitely gave off the impression the jet was unwell, both in how he vented and the fact his fans were still on as he rested. He reached a servo down to check the stasis cuffs, still seeing no change in the other. His optics narrowed slightly as something dawned on him. A couple of somethings, actually.

“Ratchet,” he didn’t bother lowering his tone and it made the medic jump, feeling nervous suddenly. GUILT for what he’d been just as guilty as Bulkhead of doing. Did he know? Could he tell? He thought he’d scrubbed the paint transfers off! He could’ve sworn he got all their mess up from the floor-- “Why are his wings unbound?” The medic blinked and let out an exvent, feeling foolish.

“About that, there’s… certain things I need to talk to you about.” Optimus’ optics whirled slightly as they fixed themselves over the recent welds on Starscream’s waist, the scraps and dents about his torso and legs. He definitely suffered some damage, but the extent of which he wasn’t sure. For the seeker not to budge at them speaking so loudly so close to him helped convince him that the other was truly unconscious and not entirely just taking it easy.

“Autobots,” he stood to address his team. “Ratchet and I have many things to discuss. Arcee, Bumblebee; see to it you are refueled and rest. Bulkhead; please allow us a moment. We will comm you if your assistance is needed, stay close.” The three nodded and headed away, Arcee leading with Bulkhead trailing. The scout and two-wheeler hit the racks first, discussing their worries and thoughts as they scrubbed themselves clean quickly so they could grab some energon and refuel comfortably. Bulkhead kept to the main entrance to that wing, not able to make out what they were saying but he was sure it was just Ratchet giving the gritty details of what they’d witnessed on their aid mission turned rescue.

Ratchet placed his servos on his hips and began to explain. “His t-cog is gone.” Optimus allowed a slight amount of surprise to register on his face but remained silent. “I haven’t told Bulkhead, I would prefer everyone treat him with utmost caution. I removed the binds from his wings earlier while I examined him in here.”

“… Issues with the medical bay?” He ventured from Ratchet’s earlier vague explanations. The medic nodded and Optimus continued now. “Ratchet, does he carry any illness we need to be aware of? His frame is running far warmer than I believe it normally would, at least from what I can recall from previous encounters with him.”

“No. No disease or illness, he’s in heat.” Optimus didn’t seem to react, wanting an elaboration. “Vosians have some more… _base_ coding than other Cybertronians, especially the lighter seekers. Heat cycles can rear up, to promote reproduction. His body wants him to mate and it has weakened him in doing so.”

“I’m sorry, you’re… certain of this?” Optimus began, perhaps a bit disbelieving. “I don’t mean to cast doubt on your expertise, old friend, but this is very… bizarre, to say the least.”

“Yes, Optimus. All the scans point to it. I had to run a direct diagnostic and I could SEE the coding. He’s not playing us, at least not right now. Bulkhead and I, we...” He shuddered. “We received his SOS and it was more disorganized than his usual ploys for help. He didn’t offer any information, either.” He admitted to his earlier half-truth. “This time he was actively being assaulted, and by an insecticon of all things.”

The almost towering Prime nodded and looked down to the seeker again, now able to place why he’d had damage akin to that from claws tearing into him. Into his waist, his hips. His body became rigid and field drew in tight, and Ratchet could see that clever mind of his working swiftly, drawing up conclusions and not wanting to say them without more evidence.

“Yes,” Ratchet spoke softly, Optimus turning to look at him with tense, wide optics and a thinly drawn mouth. “He was being _assaulted_... by an insecticon. It was presumably reacting to finding that Starscream was in heat. From what I could get out of him, he sounds like he was desperate and might not have been thinking clearly and allowed that _thing_ to do more to him than a sane mech might allow.” Optimus caught the shudder that wanted to roll through him and he felt… too much. He felt pity for this fallen mech, this proud seeker that should have been taken out in battle was instead brought down by his own body forcing his mind to betray itself.

“He compromised himself by his own coding.” The Prime slowly took a knee once more, observing Starscream more closely for any other damage. He was sure Ratchet had tended to him well considering what he must have seen.

“We don’t know if the insecticon is dead but we bridged back so there’s no way it would have a scent trail. It doesn’t seem like Megatron is looking for him either, there’s been surprisingly little activity lately from them.” Ratchet kept looking at the sorry jet and then to Optimus.

“We will remain vigilant. Do you know how long his heat may last?” He looked to his trusted friend, not sure if it was wise to attempt handling the seeker if he was not in his right mind.

“That I’m not sure on. I was hoping you might have datapads I don’t have already that might give me some clues,” he sounded let down considering all of is leader’s questions indicated he had no more knowledge on the subject than he did.

“Could be days.” Both Autobots snapped their attention to Starscream. He’d spoken up from the floor, not moving and barely having his optics cracked open, the red glow dim. “Could be _weeks_ ,” he continued, “I have taken supplements to keep it back for so long... I don’t know how bad this heat will be… Knock Out has a medication that will help.”

Optimus was still, looking down at the seeker and trying to find the correct response or what he should say to him. “Starscream,” his voice was gentle and the seeker’s optics flared, turning a glare up at him.

“Don’t. Don’t take me for some hapless victim, _PRIME_.” He pushed himself up suddenly but only to sit and move away from the other, toward the back of the cell. Optimus made no move for him and knew Ratchet was capable as any behind him. “Don’t look at me with that melancholy face, big blue optics full of your PITY! I don’t want it, I don’t NEED pity. I need this FIXED and I need to be free of this dungeon!”

Optimus stood slowly so as not to impose more threat to the other. “I’m sure you understand we cannot simply allow you to roam free. Nor can we allow you to return to Megatron, weakened or otherwise.” Starscream’s wings rattled and his venting kicked up in irritation, finding the other’s words insulting in spite of their truth. “We will help you as best we are able.”

“Oh how GENEROUS. I can make this a very easy choice for you, however. Kill me.” Ratchet sputtered at the other’s reckless suggestion. Starscream only held his chin higher. “Go on then. I’m weak. Pitiful. Not worth properly holding captive. Go on then, just a well placed shot through the spark ought to do it. I’ll even let you pry open the chamber, make you feel like you _earned it_!”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Ratchet bellowed, surprising himself as well as the other two. His PATIENT was talking about death-by-Prime and it was driving him up a wall. “That sort of ludicrous talk will not be tolerated, not while I am your primary care physician! Now you’re going to zip your lip and buckle in. We’re keeping you here as long as it takes for this coding to run its course, then its back to standard protocol.” Ratchet huffed and had his pedes squared, chest puffed up, and face stern. Then he realized both of them were staring at him. Before his regret and fear began to get too far Optimus turned to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I couldn’t agree more, Ratchet. I will defer judgment on his well being to you, and will do my best to accommodate your patient’s needs. Is there anything else I can offer you for the time being?” He looked to Starscream, now, opening the question to him. The lone Decepticon didn’t appear any less weary but he did think about that.

“Bedding would be nice. Padding, perhaps a nice thick cover-”

“Don’t set your sights too high, Starscream,” Ratchet smirked. “We’re not a luxury hotel, and you’re certainly not in a suite right now.” The jet huffed rather dismissively, no savage retort or death wish toward his doctor.

“Very well. I will see what I can find. Shall I leave him to you?” Optimus began for the door and Ratchet nodded, going with him.

“I’ll make sure he’s settled in to rest. Have Bulkhead wait outside, though. Don’t want him startling the birdie into trying to fly away,” he chuckled and pretended he didn’t hear those angry wings rattling from the back of the cell at the mockery. Optimus nodded and left him be, advising Bulkhead to wait where he was and Ratchet would be fine. The medic sealed the door, with him inside, and turned to Starscream, their optics lighting as much as they needed to see one another.

“You’re getting bold, doctor.”

“You like it?” Ratchet smirked and opened his subspace to pull out a small lantern, switching it on and setting it down to the side as he approached. Starscream’s engine gave a small rumble and he grinned up at the deep orange and white Autobot.

“Mmn… the way you took command and told Prime how you’d handle me? Why don’t you tell _me_ how you’d handle me? I’d love to hear you air your thoughts.” Ratchet knelt down, almost over him entirely, and began to run a light diagnostic. If one didn’t know any better it may even look like the medic was smirking. His servos were drifting close and passing over the other’s frame, and Starscream could feel the gentle pulses ebbing from the scanner. He hummed softly and seemed to be soothed by the other checking over him.

“I’m… going to lay you down and take care of you.” It was kind of him, Starscream mused as his optics began to shutter. “I’m going to make sure your coding is _satisfied_. I’ll be sure Bulkhead is assigned to your watch should I not be readily available.” Starscream’s optics snapped wide at that and his voice was stuck somewhere in his throat. “Just thinking about how he broke my medical table, servicing you?” The medic leaned in and centered himself in Starscream’s line of sight. “ _I needed that_ for some of the other things I have planned for you.” Starscream was shockingly mobile, pushing up to his knees and allowing his face to clash with Ratchet’s, lips pressing and suckling on the Autobot’s with force that threatened to push the broader mech back.

Ratchet growled in response and had to revert his hand back to normal, the digits then roamed over the jet’s back and up to his wings, careful and sure fingertips pressing lightly into seams and lines. Their kiss broke and Starscream whined for more, his own hands trying to reach their goal. Ratchet took hold of the other’s bound arms and raised them up, pushing and making the seeker bend to his will so he was on his back. Starscream made it immediately clear he didn’t like his wings being so trapped and growled, pushing against him but finding those hands were back on him, going down his torso and over his canopy’s exposed glass. Then the seal around it was traced over and his vents hitched.

“Ra…. Ratchet, wait,” he huffed and his struggles were reduced to mere squirms beneath the other.

“Mm I don’t think I can,” he chuckled and continued to tease the newfound sweet spot relentlessly. “I wish I could tie you up properly and really show you a good time. Maybe even get you calm enough to listen to reason about other things.”

“Ohho?” He laughed airily, the sound making Ratchet pause and feel a wave of heat go through his systems and pool at his interface array. “You want to frag me into your faction?”

“Or into being factionless.” He tried to pick back up on his end of their little game and used his thick legs to nudge the jet’s knees apart. “Imagine it, Starscream. I’m sure we’d treat you well enough if you gave us the chance.” Starscream knew Ratchet was just trying to entice him into a good time but he couldn’t help but imagine being treated well and he arched slightly. He wanted to join the other in this little fantasy, at least for now.

“Factionless… Not forced to help either side? Come and go as I please… Exchange one rust bucket for another.” Starscream slid his leg against the other’s hip and smirking when Ratchet barked a laugh in surprise at the other’s insult. “I’d have to get daily examinations by my new _primary care physician_. Maybe daily _and_ nightly?”

“You’d be in the best shape of your life,” Ratchet sighed against the other’s neck and let his glossa begin to press over tired cables, mouthing them in a sort of massage and making Starscream give more soft, pleasant sighs. “I’d put you through your paces.”

“Mm, that you would… and your Prime would have no say in the matter… and Megatron wouldn’t know where to find me...” He smiled and his leg hooked around the other’s waist, pulling Ratchet against himself and feeling his heat against his own. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning loudly and the Autobot nipped against some of his cables.

“Careful, Starscream, don’t want Bulkhead to overhear,” he chuckled. “He still doesn’t know about my special therapy for you.” He gave a bump of their closed panels, moving his helm back enough to watch the Decepticon Second in Command let his helm fall back and mouth open in a breathy sigh. He rocked forward again and Starscream bit lightly at his lower lip and the medic couldn’t get enough. Another, stronger press of their frames and his mouth was open, moaning and then turn into silent pleas the fourth time. The fifth was met with less resistance and soft mesh. He hadn’t heard the panel open and Starscream rolled his hips, grinding his valve on the other’s hot plating.

“Ratchet, enough teasing, just f-frag me,” he panted and tried to put some command in his voice but it was lacking. It was still heavily needy and Ratchet couldn’t leave a poor seeker to suffer. He positioned the other’s hips, curling over him and letting the other’s aft rest in his lap. He freed his spike from its housing, grunting as it pressurized almost painfully fast. He used his thumb to push it down against Starscream’s folds and couldn’t resist a little more playing around. He rocked his hips and hissed at the delicious heat surrounding his spike, rolling between the seeker’s mesh but not entering. The underside of his spike had a large sensory node and when it lined up with Starscream’s exterior one they both seemed to see stars.

“Oh, Starscream,” the medic groaned and rutted again, pushing his spike down harder to get more friction. Each time the nodes passed over each other Starscream’s body jumped as if a jolt of energy had been passed through him. He began to arch high and moved his hips in a counter-thrust to add to the pressure. His voice was climbing higher in pitch and he started to push up on the hand that still pinned his arms over his head.

“Ahn~ Primus, please-! If you don’t start fragging me I’ll destroy you!” Ratchet paused, then chuckled. He was in no position to make such a threat, was he really so desperate. “DON’T YOU DARE STOP!” He snarled and started to tremble, working his hips back and forth aggressively now. “Ratchet!” The medic laughed openly now and the seeker froze. Ratchet found it so endearing that the other wanted him so badly that he would promise damnation if he didn’t get what he wanted. When he opened his optics, however, his spark felt cold. Starscream was staring up at him, still shaking, still in need and his field and expression were unmistakably that of hurt and embarrassment.

“Hey, hey I wasn’t laughing _at_ you, just.. I’m sorry,” he tried to lean in for a reassuring kiss and the jet turned his face away, anger starting to seep upward and fill the cracks where the sorrow had broken through. “Starscream,” he sighed. “I can’t help It, you were being adorable.”

“I am trying to get the ONE THING I NEED FROM YOU, MEDIC!” He snapped up at him. “I can’t help that I’m like this!” He began to vent a little faster, getting worked up as he tended to do in moments like these where things hadn’t gone his way. “I don’t mind playing your little berthroom games and bantering to help things feel fun, but you do NOT MOCK ME!” He moved to disengage from him and Ratchet wasn’t about to force him still.

“Starscream,” he spoke more firmly as the jet sat up and turned his back to the other, wings raised high and tense. “I can’t… I can’t get a good read on you like this. You seem to be almost enjoying yourself and then you say you’re just acting along because of your coding. I’m beginning to doubt that all of this is entirely out of your control.” The shock and anger the seeker turned his way was almost strong enough to make the medic doubt his findings but he sat there, hands in his lap and on his knees, waiting to hear what Starscream had to say.

“I-I can’t help it! This is just how I am! This HEAT makes me desperate, and I—I just-!” His mouth worked around but nothing came out for a moment. “I’ll do anything for a good frag at this point, I’ll play games, I’ll be _sweet_ to _AUTOBOTS_ , I’ll invite a blasted Insecticon to have its way with me-! I naturally try to get my way with my words, medic, it’s natural for me to join in your little wistful daydreams about making me your toy.”

“My… my TOY?!” Ratchet was thrown for a loop now. “How did you gather THAT?!”

“You want me to be some factionless plaything, to come visit your berth and not make you feel guilty for sleeping with the enemy. Obviously I’d be little more than a frag-toy in your twisted fantasy world.”

“STARSCREAM, you are seriously testing the limits of how stupid you can pretend to be!” He growled and the seeker just shot him a glare. “I was trying to be SEXY! I don’t HAVE to put my job, my reputation as a medical professional on the line for you, but I know that this, all this playing around CALMS YOU. I’m not blind when we’re in each other’s company, you’re NOT just some bit of shareware I’m playing with. Your levels are constantly monitored BY ME. You can’t sit there and try and cover up how nice it felt to _imagine_ for a second how nice it would be for you to not have to worry about these sides of war. I was doing everything I could to get you to relax.”

“Oh, I see, so you _don’t_ want to see me every day?” The jet squinted his optics at the other, as if his mistrust was just overflowing.

“… What?” Ratchet couldn’t keep the irritation off his face.

“All that was just a load of cute little lies to calm me down, to make fragging me easier?” The accusations were just getting ridiculous and Ratchet dragged his palm down his face slowly, trying to keep calm and not snap again.

“So… let’s just… let’s just get on the same page here. Do you still… _want_ me to frag you?”

“It isn’t a matter of _wanting_ , dear Autobot, it’s _needed_. I’ll take what I can get.” He huffed and held his chin up, glowering at the tired medic.

“So you’d be fine if I had just marched in here, held you down, and finger-fragged you until your coding was satisfied?”

“Well that’s a bit crass, don’t you thi-RATCHET!” He gasped when the medic shoved him down and placed a hand over his still exposed valve. His fingers were just on the outside and the jet began to shake, but nothing about it screamed desperate desire as it had before. His field was sharp and pointed with confusion and offense and uncertainty.

“This. This is why I was trying to have fun. I wanted _you_ to enjoy the one thing your body is demanding you to do.” He removed his hand and helped right the jet, pulling him so he was sitting and then reaching for his bindings, holding them a moment. This was so stupid. So manipulative, he just KNEW he was going to regret this. “I’m not going to let you make yourself a victim under me.” He uncuffed him and set the stasis cuffs aside. “Is that understood?”

Starscream stared at his wrists, then up to Ratchet, processor struggling to get back up to speed with what was happening. So Ratchet WASN’T going to finger frag him to prove a point? To punish him or put him in his place? He really just tested the jet, read his field like an open book, and backed off? No mocking, no “I knew you liked it sweet and gentle”? Now he was… no, he wasn’t setting him free, but he was allowing him some freedom in here, with how his coding wanted him to behave.

“However you need it, short of trying to kill me to make a break for it, I’m willing to provide it.” He gave a small smile to the still shocked jet. “As a medical professional, of course.”

“No… I… I don’t want it to be like that...” Ratchet tilted his helm, wanting to encourage him to speak up. “I don’t mind playing… ahm… _games…_ I suppose. I just don’t want what happens between me and my partners to be so meaningless. Its why I’m so upset over this coding. I _want_ to enjoy my partners and them to enjoy me. Having it all be one big joke, or ultimately _just a frag_ is very counterproductive to actual mating. I… my processor is so wound up around needing to MATE, Ratchet, to find one mech out there that satisfies me on a deeper level...”

“In heat, it blocks all that out purely for reproduction so your standards slip.”

“YES, precisely!” Starscream looked up at him, eager for a second that someone was LISTENING to him. “Its not that I don’t like the games-!”

“You’d just prefer it to not be one-sided and meaningless after its over.”

“YES!” He smiled and his servos were holding Ratchet’s suddenly, shaking with tentative excitement. “You… You understand, I just… I know...” His eagerness backed down slowly to the facts. “We’re on opposite ends of this war. Everything we’re doing is against so many moral codes on both sides. When this code is satisfied and settled, I know that all this, the fun banter and jokes will have been pointless. They would have been nice if not for the fact that they mean nothing, they’re just… you’re just trying to have fun while you can with someone who is desperate.”

“No.” Ratchet pulled those servos up and kissed the back of his hands. “I know you may not believe me, but I want you, Starscream, not just this hyped up you, this sex-crazed jet side of you. If your heat were to stop, right now, and you still wanted to bed me, I’d let you.” Starscream felt his faceplate warm.

“You can’t mean that...” The seeker murmured.

“If all you need is a simple frag, no… playing around if it makes you uncomfortable, then by all means I’ll lay down and let you take what you need,” Ratchet offered with a sigh. “I don’t want to give you false hope, or have you think I’m just building you up to something more and then let you down. I’m not… certain why I’m so fascinated by you myself. I don’t know if it IS anything more than just physical, but I’ve enjoyed your company, fragging aside.”

“Stop talking you mushy-sparked Autobot.” Starscream moved over and into the other’s lap, pulling the other’s servos around himself and winding his arms over the other’s shoulders. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll just take It slow. I need this. You don’t mind giving it to me. We’ll try and leave it at that. You said it best. Let’s not build each other up as if its something more, then neither of us will be let down.” Ratchet nodded and smiled a bit, relieved the other could actually be calmed into being rational. “Who knows? Maybe when my heat is over you’ll be so addicted I’ll have you eating out of my hands.” Starscream tilted the medic’s helm up, smirking devilishly.

“Oh, you’ve revealed your evil Decepticon plot to me,” he chuckled dryly and wanted so badly to kiss him.

“Hm, you’ve found me out.” Starscream gifted him with a gentle brush of his lips. “Shall we… set up some boundaries?”

“Yes, I think that would be in both of our best interests.” He let his fingers delicately press over the seeker’s back, tracing up and down in soothing strokes.

“I don’t want any promises. I don’t want any of those daydreams clogging my processor.” Ratchet nodded. “I’m… uncomfortable on my back, mostly. Wings and all. I don’t like feeling trapped, so when I was on my side with you before, that was acceptable.” The medic again nodded, listening intently to his wishes. “Kissing is still perfectly acceptable, just try and keep those sentimental sweet nothings to yourself.” Ratchet chuckled.

“Oh but I’ve fallen so hard for you, Starscream, how could I possibly-”

“THAT.” The medic tensed and he was quiet. “That joking. I don’t like it.” He narrowed his optics and the Autobot gave an immediate apologetic brush of his field.

“I see. Joking about… affection, things like that.”

“Precisely, my smart little Autobot. You learn quickly.” He relaxed slowly and stroked Ratchet’s chin.

“Well I was top of my class,” he mused. “Playing around and joking in general, you’re okay with?”

“Of course, I couldn’t possibly dampen all of that mumbling you think is witty.”

“So gracious of you,” the medic leaned down and took the other’s thumb past his lips, his fingers growing more insistent in their touches and Starscream’s engine began to rumble once again.

“I want you to… N… No, forget it.” He began to move his hand away from that torturous mouth.

“What is it? Too affectionate?” The medic was absolutely willing to stop on a dime for the other and seeing his willingness was starting to heat the seeker’s frame in ways he didn’t know it would.

“No, that was fine. I… I always imagine one of my partners, one day… might call me something, but it would be foolish. I’d be setting myself up, so I’ll let it go.”

“Or you can tell me, so I know not to cross that line.” Ratchet reassured him and stroked his cheek. “I won’t laugh at you, even if you start being cute again.”

“I told you, it’s this code--!”

“Code aside, you’ve always been cute.”

“STOP IT! Its too affectionate!” Ratchet sighed and leaned his head forward, finally letting some of his frustration show.

“Starscream I… I have some things I like to do as well, and complimenting my partners is something I enjoy doing.”

“It goes right back to building me up for nothing! I thought you understood that.” His pout could be a thing of legend, the medic was sure.

“My thinking won’t change after this, after your heat. If all this leads to absolutely nothing more between us, I will still think you’re a cute hot-headed sexy set of legs with a terrifyingly quick processor on your shoulders. Even if you had a missile pointed at my face, I’ll still think about how you’re kind of adorable when you think you’ve beaten an Autobot.”

The seeker’s face was growing hotter and he huffed. “You’re impossible,” he relented. “Fine. Worship me.”

“Worship you?” He grinned. “I can do that. Now, tell me, what is that last line I can’t cross?”

“I… I wish I could find a partner that looked up to me… Called me their Leige, or.. something to that effect.”

“You want to feel empowered, and you think only a REAL lover would ever be able to say that?” There was no humor in his tone, just patience and curiosity.

“And MEAN it… No games with that, so don’t go calling me your master or something silly. Are we on the same page now?”

“Yes, Starscream, I believe we are. May I… satisfy your needs for the evening?” He was calm and hopeful, and the seeker gave a relaxed shake of his wings, finally easing them down behind himself.

“Yes, you may frag me senseless, medic.”

“Then I will gladly do so, my impatient patient.” He snorted and moved the other’s hips, still straining and hard even through their conversation. Starscream was also still incredibly well lubricated and the slid together perfectly. The jet whined and held on tight to the medic’s shoulders and Ratchet began to rock the other’s hips, not thrusting but just rolling into one another. He was slow at first but with those desperate pants and whimpers in his audial it was hard to hold back for longer than a minute or two.

“Ratchet… nn.. there, oh,” he tensed and rocked harder, thighs tightening on his hips.

“Mm… Want me to go faster?”

“Absolutely,” he purred and allowed Ratchet to lay him down, then re-positioned into the same form they’d taken when he first gave in to the seeker’s demands the other day, giving him the out he’d felt safe with on his side. He raised that gorgeous leg of his and kissed his calf, smoothing his fingers over the metal as his hips began to buck firmly into Starscream. One hand held him near the hip joint while the other kept the leg pointed high and able to be kissed over by the affectionate Autobot.

Their pace became frenzied and soon Starscream was crying out his name, Ratchet doing the same in turn, and both shouting as they came together. Ratchet panted softly and eased the leg down to his hip and the seeker was writhing, panting happily and feeling over his own chestplates with shuttered optics.

“Again, medic, worship me,” he panted and rolled his hips. Ratchet nodded and delivered another star performance, bending down to steal the jet’s breaths and thrust into him until he began to babble and beg without being forced. Those words started to tumble out again, his voice rising into desperate whines. “Oh-! OH! THIS ONE! OH YES! OH, YES! CH-CHOOSE…!!! AHHH!!” He threw his head back as he came undone, overloading for the second time and Ratchet still going, still filling him with his thick spike over and over, working every last bit of charge from the jet.

“Up for a third time? I didn’t quite meet you on that last one,” he chuckled and panted, trying to joke but the seeker continued to beg for him, saying things he didn’t believe the other was truly aware he was saying, switching into Vosian, he assumed, and not knowing what half his mumblings meant.

“Ratchet! Please-! [Please don’t stop!] Don’t ever leave me! Never! Always! [Always mine! Always return to me! Oh] Primus [help me! I want this] Autobot!! I want him! [I want him to choose me!] Mine! His!! Y-Yours!” His claws were getting hungry, pulling on Ratchet’s shoulders and arms, bringing them flush together and raising the heat between them. Ratchet ground in deeply and pushed himself to thrust as hard and fast as he could, wanting to help this desperate begging bird feel completion. He ignored the pain in his back, the gouges in his armor, the sting of that vicious and needy grip. Just hearing his name stirred him up.

Again they peaked together, both shouting and clinging tight as fluids spilled out from Starscream and Ratchets in turn went deep into the jet. As they panted and vented, fans, roaring, Ratchet felt a light shining down on him. It was warm and he basked in the white glow. He un-shuttered his optics and gasped. Starscream’s chest was beginning to open up to him, revealing his innermost sacred piece of himself.

The spark chamber was pristine and untouched, pure and shining before Ratchet. The glass covering the core of Starscream’s very being seemed so delicate and he fought down the urge to reach up and stroke that smooth, inviting spark casing. He knew what this meant, and Starscream would be mortified. Immediately the medic pushed all of the warmth and calm into his field as he could, making it soft and kind and brushed over the jet.

When Starscream came to he felt peaceful, he felt almost complete in a sense. The darkness of the room had fled into mere shadows, shadows on the ceiling of Ratchet. What a lovely mech, he thought. He was almost too good to him. His optics lowered and he could see Ratchet, not just his silhouette, and he could see how brightly lit he was. He found it odd, then terrifying. His mouth opened wide and he looked down, seeing himself exposed and bared to the other. He looked back to Ratchet, pleading silently and hoping the other understood, and he did. He understood completely.

“Shh, rest. Nothing has happened between us. Your coding is trying hard to pick for you, its almost as impatient as you are,” he smiled and gently brushed his fingers to the outside of the plating, farthest to the sides. “Just concentrate, don’t force it, just think of the lucky mech that will one day share your spark, and keep this a surprise for them, alright?” Starscream nodded, letting those soothing words travel over him, calm him, lead him into the right mindset. He focused, sending overrides and closing his panels up, shutting away his inner light.

Ratchet had withdrawn from him at some point and he realized how cruel this all was all at once. This war, this never ending myriad of misery, would keep him from Ratchet, or whoever his chosen would truly be. What if he would never find his chosen, but he was destined to have one? This war would decide his fate for him, and that thought was devastating.

“I’ll arrange to get you cleaned up, and I’ll get a ration for you,” the medic spoke softly. He closed himself away and was moving back, but stopped when two slender arms shot out around him.

“Don’t… don’t leave, not yet...” Starscream felt so small, so afraid. Was this mech going to be the only one to see his true light? See his spark and react in such a kind fashion? Would this war leave him truly alone? These factions… these thoughts he didn’t want to have, coding be damned, he hadn’t been ready to sit and think about how he was letting his fate be swept around by the whims of a power hungry madman and naive, stubborn do-gooder.

“I’ll wait until you’re okay. I’ll wait right here.” Ratchet had not expected the seeker to cry, he hadn’t expected anything but lust and sass and some bitterness mixed in. Whatever was happening to the jet, he could only brace himself and let the seeker hold on for some sort of stability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really hoping that everything starts flowing more smoothly after this. Let me know if you would like to see a list of the pairings in the order I plan on having them appear in? Or would it be too spoiler-y?


	6. The Heat Melts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally Chapter 6 after an unintentional hiatus! I hope you all enjoy! If anyone ever wants to hit me up on Tumblr I'm RobuttsInYourThighs <3

**The Heat Melts**

 

 

Time moved at a crawl for the seeker for nearly the duration of his stay, at least during the weeks he was strictly confined to his cell. He was watched over dutifully by the Autobots, each putting in their shift of sitting outside his cell door and each telling him to keep it down in their own way. Arcee was direct and full of colorful threats to try and silence Starscream and his almost constant whining and inquiries on when he was to be refueled next, his next shower, why couldn’t they turn the heat down in his cell or get something to move the air? Always he was met with aggravated “SHUT UP”s and “I WILL CRAM YOUR WINGS DOWN YOUR INTAKE IF I GET MY HANDS ON YOU”. So snippy, she was.

Bumblebee’s shifts were either painfully boring or cruelly delightful. The seeker was certain that his heat hadn’t been discussed with the rest of the team and so teasing the yellow scout was one of the entertaining highlights of some days. His heat had eased some with occasional attention from Ratchet and finally the return of Bulkhead’s care, though he had to resort to his games with that one. Still, he was very needy and the ozone he created alone in that room could seep out to the yellow scout. Perhaps that was why Arcee was so incredibly annoyed with him as well? She thought him some devious fool playing with himself in the enemy camp probably.

Starscream would purr and chitter to Bumblebee sometimes when he would receive his ration, taking it gladly in his bound hands and making sure to start drinking it before the mech could start out of the cell, almost moaning once just to see what the young Autobot would do. He froze. The small mech had locked up and stared, standing perfectly still and observing the seeker hungrily drink down the much needed energon. Only once the jet lowered the cube and sighed happily did the scout turn and stride out from the cell, pausing before hitting the door lock again. What a fun day that was, listening to the now frustrated and confused bot outside his cell buzz and grumble to himself. The sounds of outwardly expressed internal conflict was always a treat to his audials.

Bulkhead’s watch was always a coin toss. He would either be in the mood to frag or he wouldn’t, regardless of Starscream’s constant desire for his spike. They had quite the shock the first time they had a go at it since Starscream began his residency in the cell. He’d completely forgotten about the naughty medic calibrating his valve to fit snugly on the doctor’s spike specifically. With a night full of cursing and impatience on both of their parts they eventually made things work, and Starscream was now prepped with torturous foreplay before Bulkhead allowed his pelvic span anywhere near the jet.

They both adored the tight fit and it definitely put them each in a better mood each time, but Bulkhead noticed a trend of Starscream demanding to have the Autobot finish inside only to throw a fit until he was escorted to the wash racks to clean it out. It was a heat thing, Starscream had boredly explained while the green mech was stuck watching him nonchalantly clean himself in front of the other. There had been some awkward silence between them and some optic contact, and then they were at it again right there in the racks. The thrill of getting caught, Starscream learned, was one of Bulkhead’s little kinks and he would use it to his advantage.

Ratchet’s visits were far less frequent than he would have liked but it was explained, each time and passionately so, that it was so the medic could work on their energon supply distribution. All was forgiven only with each tryst that sated the seeker into blissful recharge. He always awoke fully clean and void of any transfluid, which was a wonderful thing to not have to fret over. Certainly if he were ever pitted against these Autobots in the heat of battle again he’d be sure to avoid this precious gem, not that they really used him on the front lines, and such a shame. All that pent up energy would have to be spent on Starscream, he mused to himself with a small smirk.

“What’re you grinning about in there?” The jet turned more to the open slot in the door that allowed his keepers to look in on him. Arcee was glowering in on him.

“Oh, the usual.” He didn’t elaborate, just to drive her into a more annoyed state.

“Ugh… Arrogant. Always smug. You do realize you’re our prisoner, right? Or did you get your processor thrown out of whack once and for all before we had to rescue you?” She didn’t expect him to answer, really, she was ready for more of the same scathing and rude commentary from him but instead she got a raspy laugh. Oh that laugh always made her want to grind her denta.

“You seem to be the confused one, here. YOU did not rescue me.” He narrowed his eyes at her from his place on the floor at the back of the cell. “Your precious medic came to my aid, along with your wrecking-ball of a companion.  _They_  rescued me.”  _Which they continue to do every few days_ , he mused to himself in silence with another small smirk. Arcee frowned more at him and then disappeared from the viewing slot in the door. The whole thing began to shift and Starscream tensed. Was such a mild conversation that upsetting to her that she was going to come in after him? The sight of an energon cube in her servo dispelled that thought immediately.

“No funny business,” she huffed and walked in toward him carefully, scrutinizing him and very much on her guard.

“Nothing of the sort,” he purred and shifted to sit up more and she stopped. Oh honestly, this femme. “What, I can’t get comfortable for my meal?” He snuffed but took in the look of almost… disgust on her features. She wasn’t looking at his face, either, she was upset at something lower. He followed her optics and realized his panel was open and in full view of her. He had to decide whether to be embarrassed or go with it. If he was going to burn up in embarrassment he would at least do a few flips and make a show of it to go down in spectacular fashion.

He raised mischievous optics to her and smiled. “What? Haven’t you seen one of these yourself?” He parted his legs slightly to make sure she had to get a good look at his exposed valve. “No wonder you’re wound so tight. Dear, sweet, innocent Arcee, don’t you know how to have a good time? Even  _with yourself_?” That snapped her out of it. Through the roulette of emotions flashing through her field and expressed on her face she landed on absolute outrage.

“You’re a disgusting animal!” She launched the cube directly at the seeker and he was not in a position to dodge it properly, simply scrunching his face in a flinch before the cube connected and broke against his chest, sending the luminescent blue fuel splattering over his frame. There was silence in the cell for a moment and Starscream carefully cracked an optic to see if her tirade was over. “You have done nothing but toy around with yourself in here from day one! That is **disgusting** , Starscream, even for you. Do you get off on being here? Wasting our resources and time on you?? This is so… You’re so pointless. You know that, don’t you?” She approached him now, her field flaring heatedly toward the jet.

Starscream turned his optics away from her and to himself, wiping some of the energon from his cheek and licking it off his digit calmly. He would refrain from lashing out at her, at least not yet. He’d need another cube out of her so he needed to tread carefully for a moment. He gasped when his helm was yanked back painfully to face up at her. The two-wheeler was standing over him fearlessly, grabbing his helm to make him pay attention.

“Megatron isn’t even looking for you. You’re a drain even on his resources. You’re practically slag walking. Mechanimals have more class than you.” Starscream growled lowly but with amusement. He wanted to push this bold femme even further.

“Is that so? And what of it? What do you care? Think you can change me by belittling me? I may be your prisoner but I’m certainly not your pet, you can’t get me to do anything here. You can’t even get me to give you a fight you so desperately want from me.” She huffed and shoved him back, turning on her heel and marching away. She stopped midway in the room and looked back at him, cold and calculating. Ooh, she was up to something now, wasn’t she?

“Lights out, Starscream.” She kicked his tiny lamp gifted from Ratchet and stamped her heel down on it, snuffing the little tool’s light and sending a chill up the seeker’s spinal strut.

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Goodnight~” Arcee sing-songed and strode out, hitting the door and sealing him in behind her as he tried desperately to make his way across the floor.

“You can’t leave me in here in the dark! Don’t you dare!!” He made it to the tiny open viewing window and was met with silence. “ARCEE! DON’T IGNORE ME!” He flinched when she stepped into view so close to him on the other side of the barrier.

“Naughty Decepticons that play with their valves all day get to go to bed without dinner. GOOD. NIGHT.” She sealed the last remnant of light away to the jet’s indignant screeching and clawing of the door. She moved to her post, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. She dialed down her audials as much as she could stand, dulling out the jet’s already muffled shouting just a bit more to make her shift more tolerable.

She’d already had a trying and tiring day, running around trying to get into Decepticon mines for what little energon crystals they could pilfer, and here she’d wasted a whole cube on their prisoner. She couldn’t take his arrogance anymore, she just wanted to put him in his place once and for all, but she had to try not to regret it. Arcee was a determined one, though, she would see this through. She had to stick with whatever plan she could come up with and so it had better be a good one. She’d have Starscream begging her for forgiveness soon enough, and in earnest. She smirked to herself and decided she’d have to volunteer a couple of shifts to really see this through.

Bumblebee was to take up post after the two-wheeler, and when he arrived Starscream was finally silent. She could trust the yellow scout to follow strict orders, at least, and she’d be right back here after Bee’s shift. The mech was coming her way for his turn at babysitting the con and she already had her story prepared.

“Hey, Bee.” She stretched and adjusted her audial levels internally. Starscream was silent. “Dunno what crawled up his tailpipe this time but he really made a mess of himself. I think its best to hold off on his next ration until he’s calmed down.” Bumblebee seemed almost surprised but nodded.

“:: _What did he do, exactly? You’re okay??::”_  He gave her a look over and she nodded.

“Well first he was yelling about how he deserves better bedding, then outright tried to snatch his cube from me, made a mess, so now he can stew in it.” Bee snorted in amusement at the idea of the proud seeker childishly dumping energon on himself.

“: _:Well that’s a shame. Wasting our resources…::_ ” He murmured in low buzzes.

“That’s what I said!” Arcee seemed glad someone understood where she was coming from. “Comm me if he gets up to anything. I’ll help you put him in his place.” Bee nodded to her and they parted ways. The scout sidled up to the spot on the wall the two wheeler had occupied and leaned on it, settling in for a boring shift.

The humans had been barred from coming to this area and they were here for a visit, too. Raf had been understanding and had even been asked by Ratchet to look at some sort of code, of all things. It didn’t make Bumblebee any less bored and certainly didn’t make him any less restless. Before long he was pacing, making a little patrol line and walking it like a drone. Swinging his arms to his steps didn’t help. Kicking his pedes out didn’t help. Leaning on various surfaces didn’t help.

Still, the yellow mech continued tediously pacing around and stopping at various spots, checking his chronometer and finding he’d hardly been there 30 minutes. He heaved a loud buzzing sigh and allowed himself to lean into the door of the cell, only to pause with a new distraction. It was… warm? Borderline hot, really, but still far too out of the ordinary to not take notice. He turned and felt the cell door with his bare servos.

It was definitely heated in a limited area. He hummed low and moved to the peep-hole to check in. Snapping it open he was confused to find absolute darkness. No little lamp, still no glowing energy barrier. No red optics glaring at him. What was going on? He didn’t want to just open the door and fall into some trap, but he didn’t wan to bother Arcee with nothing. Bulkhead had headed out to try and help Miko find a spot to overlook a concert so he would be unreachable, and Ratchet was with Jack and Raf. Optimus might actually be getting some shut eye, but he doubted it.

Bumblebee went over his options on what he should do next, what was the safest and wisest course of action. He was nearly startled out of his thoughts by a sudden angry, raspy shout from the hidden seeker.

“Let me out you BLASTED FEMME!!” Starscream could be heard taking a ragged breath, an inward vent to try and cool himself. Was that hot-spot on the door him? To warm the door to that degree on his own was… that was way too hot for a bot to run! He hurried to the opposite end of the hot spot and hit the door release, looking over with his arm now shifted into his weapon. The sight the door slid aside and revealed made him tense all over.

At a glance the jet looked mortally wounded, energon caked over him, looking baked on from his high heat. The blast of warm air was not expected, he hadn’t noticed it from the tiny viewing space either. Starscream was huddled up on his side, having fallen against the door and stayed there. Claw marks gouged the concrete and streaks of energon showed his chaotic trail in the cell and led from the back, past a broken lamp, and all over the front of the door. How long had he been like this? How long had he been IN THE DARK?

Starscream didn’t spring up, he didn’t assault or threaten Bee at all. He hardly seemed to care that the other was there, he instead sprawled himself onto his front, wings fanned wide and apart to try and get as much of the cooler air to his body as possible. His torso was heaving slightly from the manual intakes of air, panting essentially. His servos looked horribly worn, the long elegant claw tips were anything  _but_  at that point.

Bee carefully approached the other, weapon still at the ready, and got a better look at him. The heat coming off the jet in waves was almost unbearable, the scout couldn’t imagine how Starscream was still functioning like this. Really, truth be told, he looked like he was hardly functioning at all as he was laying there gasping on the ground and slowly rolling his wings. He didn’t want to have any blame for Starscream expiring on his watch, either, so he would take action. He knelt down in spite of the heat and danger of such proximity to the jet and transformed his pistol away so he could use his hands.

“ _::_ _Starscream, can you hear me? What is happening to you, what is this?::_ ” The seeker took some time to respond, reacting to being lifted from the ground with a tired, pained groan.

“Too hot,” he grumbled out, which was obvious. Bee whirred with frustration at the lack of understanding or any direction to go off of from there. He’d have to take him to the wash racks, the only thing he could think of to rapidly cool him at this point. The yellow sports car hoisted the larger but lithe seeker up and stood, carrying him determinedly out of the cells. If this was a trick he was doing an amazing job acting out this sickly POW role.

Starscream was half curled as he was carried with support under his back and the bend of his knees, his arms held to his chest partially due to the cuffs still mounted firmly in place there. He could tell he was being carried around, but it felt clumsy and uncertain, not like the firm hold of Ratchet or Bulkhead. His optics felt like liquid fire, it hurt to open them fully as it was and he could barely see all the warnings in his internal HUD. He could hear well enough, at least, the worried buzzing and beeping of the Autobot scout. Ah, so he was being shown mercy by this one. He would have to start rethinking his attitude towards those that acted on their soft-sparked nature.

Bee set him carefully on the rack floor, starting up a shower nearby. The solvent wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot either. The moment it came into contact with the seeker’s ankles it began to hiss and sizzle away. Bee’s arms were already very hot, and his hands more so, but he still reached for the jet and maneuvered him under the shower, kneeling in front of him to keep him upright and under the spray. He squirmed and hissed as though the spray stung him, but after a minute or two the heated metal was only steaming rather than sizzling, and after that he seemed to calm as his temperature began to balance out.

“ _::Starscream, can you hear me? Do you know where we are?::_ ” Bee tried again to get some sort of cognitive response from him.

“Mmmn… Your lowly Autobot base… In the shower.” He didn’t add any sass, just answering the genuinely worried sounding mech. “You brought me here to help me? Why?”

“ _::I... can’t let you just burn up like that. It wouldn’t be right. What’s going on with you? Why are you running so hot?::_ ” Bumblebee checked over the seeker’s arms and wrists to make sure the cuffs were still set and that he could start washing the tacky gooey remnants of energon off of him.

“Well, that is a little secret I  _could_  let you in on. For a price.” He smirked tiredly when Bumblebee stopped to frown at him. He assumed it was a frown, since those little dark brow ridges pinched together. “Give us a kiss.” Bumblebee sputtered and spat a multitude of nonsensical whistles and whirring buzzes in his confusion, jumping back and slipping on the slick floor, landing hard on his backside. Starscream moved steadily over onto his knees, pulling himself closer with his hands in front to hold him up and swaying his hips as each leg took a turn sliding closer.

“ _::WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! IS YOUR PROCESSOR FRIED?!!::_ ” The yellow scout pushed himself back into an unoccupied stall and Starscream kept coming, crawling patiently and a little awkwardly after.

“You’ll be glad you did. Come on, I’ve seen you watching me. A little too closely. Staring when I drink my fuel, practically drooling over me. Cute little Bumblebee, you can’t help but be curious, its in your nature. Don’t be ashamed, I won’t tell anyone. I just want to see that handsome face under that mask.” He was soon making his way into the smaller mech’s lap, straddling him and stroking lightly over the other’s chest. There was a clicking, shifting sound and the muzzle of a gun touched Starscream’s chin. “… Well. Someone’s playing hard to get,” he mused bitterly.

Bumblebee pushed up at Starscream’s jaw until the mech was off his lap and sitting on the shower floor and the yellow mech could stand. “ _::I don’t know WHAT you’re trying to do, but you won’t get away with it. Not with me::_ ” He warned and puffed his chest out. “ _::You’re going to tell me what is going on with you, no playing around.::_ ”

“No fun at all,” the jet sulked and stretched himself up on his knees, reaching for the controls of that stall and activating them, sighing as the solvent came down on him, continuing to soothe his achingly warm body. “Ratchet and Bulkhead don’t seem to mind playing along.” He smirked to himself and flicked his wings in a naughty display, stretching and showing the sleek curves and angles of his seeker frame to the scout behind him, washing what he could reach with his bound hands.

“ _::_ _NO GAMES. WHY are you clocking in so hot? What about Ratch and Bulk??::_ ” He powered up his gun in warning but the seeker didn’t seem to mind, not presenting himself as a threat in any way aside from his curious words.

“They’ve been aiding me in my time of need. I’m a very pitiful thing, you see, being in a mating heat and all.” He smirked over his shoulder, expecting to see the other flustered or aroused, just intrigued. Instead blue optics whirled and a brow ridge cocked in confusion. “Heat,” he said flatly, facing him more. “You’ve never heard of a heat?” Bee shook his head to the negative and the Decepticon sighed theatrically. “Must I explain everything?”

“ _::_ _Well yeah, it’s YOUR issue, no one’s told me anything. What’s your heat? Is it some illness? You gonna over-heat to death?::_ ” Bumblebee relaxed his stance but kept his gun aimed.

“In a sense… my body is being driven by a core desire to procreate, to continue my lineage and  _breed_. Ratchet and Bulkhead have been sating that need for me, keeping such a cruel over-heating fate away for now.” He smiled at both the fond memories and the dawning realization on the smaller bot’s face.

“ _::_ _But... how? How have they been able to help? What do they do if you’re not in the wash racks all the time??::_ ”

“Well, its very simple. It always starts with a kiss.” He watched the other fully, his optics less hazy and more precise, glowing bright with excitement and forbidden promise that drew the scout into them. He took a step back, the news finally wrapping itself around his processor and stunning him into silence for a minute.

“ _::_ _You can’t-- You’re lying! They wouldn’t fool around with a con!::_ ” Bumblebee raised his gun back up, pointing at the seeker’s face.

“It was the medic’s orders. Well, Bulkhead and I had a go of it and  _then_  Ratchet joined the fun and decided it was the safest, quickest option. Its a natural procedure, really, if we set our differences aside. We’re all Cybertronians here, nothing unnatural or unusual. I’m really at your mercy, and its almost more cruel to leave me without, don’t you think?” He pursed his lips in a small smirk.

Bumblebee was stuck, he couldn’t just let this information sit without action. He wanted to confirm it with Ratchet, to prove Starscream was lying, but if he wasn’t and it was the truth then would he get in trouble for prying? Probably not, but it would still prove he was tangled up in the seeker’s mess and may prove more troublesome than its worth in the end.

“ _::Is it really all you want? Does a kiss help?::_ ” He lowered the gun, hoping to at least find a way to get the jet to settle down so he could take him back to his cell.

“Ooh yes, please. A kiss from you will do me wonders~” he cooed and wiggled his wings in invitation, Bee feeling his own door-wings twitch in response. With a sigh and a ‘fine’ the scout transformed his gun away and approached carefully.

“ _::Just a kiss, and keep your hands to yourself, okay?::_ ” Starscream nodded quickly and wiggled in place on his knees, hands down between them and waited. Bumblebee glanced around, checking that no one was spying somehow from the doorway, and then looked to the eager jet. His mouth guard lowered, his mouth and lower jaw looking so perfect and appetizing to the needy bird.

Starscream bit his lower lip as he grew more anxious, letting the scout take his time with this taboo act. Bee moved closer, bending down slightly and watching his footing in case the other tried anything. His hands came up to either side of Starscream’s helm, holding him steady and staring at the other’s thin lips, clearing himself of any second thoughts, then shuttered his soft gaze away and tilted his captive’s helm opposite his and pressed their lips together.

The sensation was phenomenal, the heat and soft press of nearly mesh-like-metal against his seldom exposed lips was exhilarating. Bee held still, just enjoying the danger and delight in the intimate touch, and gasped when Starscream moved to make it more intense. His lips parted and the aerial commander’s silver glossa found its way against his mouth, ghosting once over the outside of his lips and then again in a careful swipe, inviting Bumblebee to participate. So he did. He met the other’s glossa with his own, moaning and pressing them together and then past the other, exploring each other’s intakes.

It was so careless and intense, so direct and sloppy. He felt like he was fumbling through it like a fool but Starscream was moaning for him, sighing and murmuring praise between their kisses and turning of helms to try at a different angle. Bumblebee moved closer and closer, getting comfortable with the other and his bending turned into a kneel, and he was once more sitting with an eager seeker in his lap, solvent spraying down over them.

Their bodies slid against each other easily though their movements were tiny and short lived. Pressure was the next thing Bumblebee noticed. His processor was in a fog of want as he kissed the jet again and again, but his pelvic span was calling his attention. This was getting out of hand, he needed to stop this. He pulled back from the kiss, one hand cupping Starscream’s cheek and his thumb smoothing over the other’s lower lip.

Starscream was panting orally, doing his best to stay cool in the heat of that kiss. “So passionate, Bumblebee. You’re so sweet to me. Won’t you let yourself have some fun?” He pressed his hips down, his exposed valve sliding over Bumblebee’s sealed array, earning a gasp and bodily shake from the other. “Look at you, almost as heated as I am. Come on… its only a kiss?”

The face guard snapped back up so he could speak in his disjointed beeps and buzzing. “ _::Only a kiss? Starscream that-- To do more, is, I… I shouldn’t…::_ ”

“Only a kiss...” Starscream insisted and kissed around the mouth piece, wanting more of the scout. Bee groaned softly and let it slide away, pressing their lips together once again, resuming their needy exploration. Starscream let his bound hands roam lower, toying with the seams of Bee’s array and begging him in desperate whispers to play with him. Bumblebee couldn’t resist the call of danger, more danger than just kissing. His spike pressurized as soon as it was free and his hips jerked when those lethal claws began to manipulate him right away. Stroking and fondling his spike, pumping it and squeezing over and over until he was a panting mess himself.

He couldn’t speak without his face guard up and had to move if he wanted something. He pulled Starscream closer, making him move his hands and began to rut against the seeker. The plush valve enveloped him mostly, but he didn’t quite enter, and already he started thrusting. Instinct took over and he just needed to MOVE. He needed to feel friction, to gain release. Starscream was enjoying himself, moaning softly as the spike brushed over his outer node again and again. He kissed the side of the scout’s cheek and nuzzled closely to him, fingers pawing at the other’s chest.

“Mmn you’re so good… Bee, you’re so good, such a good _strong_ mech. You want to kiss me? Hm?” Bee nodded dumbly and sought out the other’s mouth, kissing him more. Starscream growled and let their glossas entangle messily, keeping him distracted just long enough to position his hips properly. He pressed down and felt that eager, pulsing spike slip past his valve folds and this time right inside his calipers. Bee startled and snapped his hips up, sheathing himself entirely and getting a yelp of surprise from the mech in his lap.

They began to move again immediately, neither able to keep control. They both ground into one another, seeking each other’s lips and then necks, spike burying itself again and again into that hot, needy valve. Calipers flexed and constricted, trying to take the other as deep as he could while bouncing in his lap. Bumblebee let his hands grasp the other’s hips and used them to push and pull the seeker into a rhythm, the friction building up into a heated crescendo of Starscream’s cries of pleasure and his own huffs and clicks.

When he came it was entirely too soon for either of them, the yellow bot tensing suddenly and holding Starscream still. His essence pulsed out of him almost painfully hard, his hips twitching to get deeper still and fill him up. They held each other for a moment and waited to see what the other would do. Starscream broke the silence first, nuzzling into him. “Are you all right? That was very...abrupt.”

“ _::I can do better,::_ ” The scout insisted hurriedly, though his spike was only at half mast now. Starscream chuckled and kissed his cheek since the mouth guard was back in place.

“I’m certain you can. It’s probably been ages for you, poor thing. We have time. We can always try another day, if… you’re interested.”

“ _::No, we can-I can go again, just give me a minute, okay?::_ ” Bee moved Starscream off of him and sat him on the tile. He hadn’t expected to see the other keep his legs open like that, see his own transfluid leaking out of that juicy valve, his outer node glowing brightly for him in an incredibly arousing indecent display. Bee’s servo was on his own spike, pumping it as he stared down at that valve, at his goal. He wanted to fill it again, he wanted to pump the other until he gushed at the end. He was getting harder but it was a strain to build himself back up so suddenly.

Starscream found it endearing, the young mech so eager to please, even if he was being greedy. The jet welcomed any advances anyway, even desperate and hurried as they were. Bee panted and slowed his stroking enough to see he was maintaining his spike at full length again. “How would you like me this time, my kind Bumblebee?” He purred at him and the scout felt a shiver of power, the other being so sweet and demure just made his engine turn over hard and his spike ache.

“ _::On your knees,::_ ” he decided, the words coming out like a command. Starscream didn’t have to be told twice and rolled himself carefully. His wings preferred this anyway, free to fan out and angle themselves comfortably. He settled his knees forward and leaned back, aft up and facing the scout. His arms were bent at the elbows so his helm could rest on the cuffs. He was about to welcome him to resume when Bee took the initiative anyway. That spike drove inside completely and Bee held on to him about his waist, arms holding him tightly. His pace was hard and quick, his pelvic span slamming against Starscream’s exposed one and making the most crude slapping noises.

Each strike of the Autobot’s hips made Starscream bounce into Bumblebee’s tightly held arms around his center and they dragged him back down into the next thrust before he could attempt to catch himself. It was maddening, the friction building only alleviated by the transfluid and lubricants already inside of him, and the outer portions of their arrays were aided by the solvent still running over them both.

Their venting filled the room, which turned into moans and grunting, Starscream feeling himself ready to give first this time. The scout’s eagerness could put Ratchet to shame, and his recovery time was rival to his. He began to chirp and call out in Vosian, praising the other and telling him not to stop, and Bumblebee seemed to understand and pushed himself faster. It was a hard pace and he somehow kept it up until the seeker began to overload, crying out for him and spilling his own transfluid onto the shower floor below.

Bumblebee tensed seconds later and his pace became erratic, each inward thrust was a hard clap of their pelvis armor and his spike throbbed, pulsing out his transfluid once again and keeping Starscream held fast. They vented and flushed out heated air under the solvent spray for a few minutes and waited until they could think clearly. Starscream was very sated, aching but pleased, and Bumblebee felt a sort of relief he hadn’t known he’d needed. He slid out carefully, hands on the jet’s hips and keeping him elevated as his softening spike slipped free. Transfluid shimmered and oozed out, making his pump race in his chassis.

It was amazing, seeing what he could do to the jet. He could make him cry for him, talk in his most prized dialect, make him wet and sate him with his essence. He wanted to do it again and again. “ _::You think we could go again? Right now?::_ ” He asked hopefully and Starscream barked out a tired laugh from the floor.

“Right now? I doubt you have it in you to go again _right now_. Pace yourself, you could strain… your spike, I don’t know,” he laughed and Bumblebee smiled behind his guard. Hearing something as light and airy as a laugh from the jet, because of him, it made his spark pulse happily. He reached his fingers down to explore the valve he’d so thoroughly used and stopped when the jet tensed. After a second he relaxed and shifted his hips a bit. “Go on then, if you think you can. Unless you’re just curious.”

Bumblebee looked back down at the transfluid coating his digits and plunged two fingers inside, feeling the soft mesh and the calipers greeting him with massaging squeezes. He rocked his palm and his hand, playing with the jet slowly and deeply. His thumb found that glowing button and pressed down, marveling at how Starscream’s hips jumped and his calipers cycled down repeatedly. He thrust his hand a little more, picking up the pace and soon mimicking his earlier fragging pace. Starscream gasped and choked out his name, wiggling and trying to get away from that too-skilled-hand but Bumblebee chased him. It was like a game, testing and playing to see if he could make him explode again.

Starscream found himself writhing, legs spread wide and bouncing against the scout’s hand. He twitched and groaned when his body began to charge up, overload crashing over him in a less intense, shorter burst than before. “Tsss~! Oooh Bumblebee~ Mmn! Mmm its so good, how can you be this good to me?” He praised happily and let himself be lifted from the floor by his waist. The hand left his valve and he could practically feel those blue optics gazing at him. He cycled his calipers just to push out the transfluid and lubricant, wanting to reward the other with a show. “Look at how messy you’ve made me? Isn’t it wonderful?” He purred and closed his optics to relax.

Bumblebee couldn’t help himself, he was running hot and the other kept him that way. He aligned himself and pushed in again, this time earning a squeal from the con. “OH BEE! Again?!” He didn’t sound upset, just very startled. Bee’s response was to start in at a harder pace than before, the metalic clapping resounding in the wash racks and Starscream shouting in pleasure, begging him not to ever stop and caught between standard Neo Cybex and Vosian.

This was not possible, not all these Autobots could be THIS skilled, this was like a fantasy come true for the seeker. He purred and keened for him, trilling when Bee would stop and grind together, getting him wound so tight he was begging for mercy and to be taken again. By the time the scout finally wore them both out he was hoarse and he’d made so many promises to "choose" the other that he wasn’t sure whether it was in his head out aloud. Bumblebee slammed home and Starscream’s knees gave, sending him flat against the floor as the Autobot emptied his reserves into him and stayed there.

They vented wordlessly and Bumblebee dropped his mouth guard to kiss over the seeker’s shoulders and neck, over to his back and played with his wings, exploring every inch while he had the chance. When he leaned back, still inside the jet, he could only imagine how much fun this could be all the time, danger be damned. He’d start volunteering watches if he had to, this would NOT be the last time he’d have Starscream under him. He kept exploring until he reached the area he was joined to him, feeling along the flexible mesh and all around his entrance that hugged his spike. He began to press, wondering how much he must be able to stretch to accommodate the others and was pleased when his thumb joined his spike inside the seeker.

Starscream hummed and shifted, barely bothered at this point and looking ready to pass out right there on the floor. Bee pulled his thumb free and rubbed along the pliant array, stopping only when he found something else interesting. The mesh seemed to come to an odd gathering, barely noticeable at a glance, and he touched over it with his thumb. This time the jet tensed and was still. Hearing no warning Bumblebee pressed his lubricated thumb down and the mesh gave, allowing him into a secondary and far more tight passage than his valve.

The seeker arched and pushed himself up onto his hands, gasping and trying to find his words. “BEE!” He called back and the mech grew still, not sure If he had upset him. He waited and decided to keep exploring, pushing his thumb in more and then back out carefully. The mesh allowed him in and back out but wasn’t as lubricated as his valve had been. “Bumblebee, please-t-that’s-- you shouldn’t be able to get in that,” he shuddered and his wings began to press down to his back. That was definitely distress and Bumblebee felt badly for pushing his luck, he should have asked instead of just going on ahead.

“ _::Sorry, I haven’t seen that before, is.. it that normal?::_ ” He asked as he eased off the other and allowed Starscream to move as he needed. The jet turned over to his knees quickly, facing bumblebee and looking flustered.

“No, it isn’t, and don’t you DARE tell anyone about it!!” He hissed suddenly. Bumblebee held his hands up in apology, not even seeming to know what it was. “It’s a secondary port. It’s… some seekers have it. We tend to… have multiple partners, and don’t necessarily want everyone to breed with us. It’s carried over from ancient times, and it’s… ugh, I don’t want to go over this with you, just uncuff me so I can clean up.”

Bumblebee gave an awkward snort. “ _::Uncuff you? No way.::_ ” The seeker gave him a flat look and growled.

“Unless you want me to start popping out your offspring you will allow me to clean myself properly AT ONCE.” That motivated him into action and he was uncuffed with surprising ease. He turned away from him and began to reach inside with those long claws, encouraging the transfluid inside to come out. Bee was again transfixed, staring at the display and felt a sense of pride for having been the responsible party.

“ _::So this is what Ratchet and Bulkhead do with you? When you’re alone?::_ ” The jet nodded and Bumblebee shifted on his pedes. “ _::Alright then. I’ll do it too. If you want it, of course. Sorry if I got carried away today, I can do better.::_ ” Starscream paused and looked over at him, his expression unreadable at first but fading into a smile.

“Of course my darling little Bumblebee. I’d let you kiss me any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you guys enjoyed this update! I'll fill in some factoids I guess? Or headcanon thoughts that went into this.
> 
> 1\. Bumblebee was a virgin until this point. He was very young when the war began and never really had time for fooling around, and it's been non stop work and war since the fall of Cybertron. So his seeming obsession and pride in "wow look what I just did" is all his first time satisfaction of fragging someone so of course he's ready to prove himself an amazing lover and not stop.
> 
> 2\. No, Starscream doesn't have a butthole. Or afthole. I can't get into the idea of having poopers because... Robots pooping lol I can't, I keep cracking up. Like somehow them having genitals is right up my alley but them having other humanoid functions is where I draw the line what even is this fandom I can't-
> 
> 3\. For seekers a second port is a sign of a carrier, one who is prone to heat cycles. "In ancient times" seekers would have nests and usually a trine, each to look out for one another and one usually as a back up carrier or sire if something happened to another one. If a carrier is without a trine and goes into heat, they could be overwhelmed with airing-suitors all wanting to claim them. As a safety measure they have a secondary port or kind of a trap door for back up suitors so that way they get to frag but it won't damage the carrier and they don't risk cross contaminating a batch with less than desirable transfluid.
> 
> I hope this cleared up some of the ideas I tried to get across in this chapter! I still haven't posted a pairing list because o keep changing my mind on how things will fall into place.
> 
> Next update won't take so long I promise!


	7. The Heat Scorches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I've been incredibly unmotivated by life events including  
> 1\. working for a job I hate for 1.5 years  
> 2\. leaving that job for a new one  
> 3\. getting let go suddenly from the new one  
> 4\. current unemployment
> 
> This chapter was mostly hashed out and written, just not tidied up since September and finally, FINALLY I finished it.
> 
> SO MUCH SMUT AND DRAMA AHEAD GUYS, JUST BRACE YOURSELVES. I hope you enjoy! (This fic is not dead please believe me!)

**The Heat Scorches**

 

 

Silken sheets spread below the regal Winglord of Vos, his wings splayed beneath him in a stunning display. His royal consort was positioned between those long, smooth legs, helm dipping down to allow his glossa to lap up his overflowing valve. Everything was a haze to the seeker, he didn’t know how long he’d been on this soaring high of ecstasy but he was far from done.

“Mmn~” he moaned low in his throat, licking his lips and gazing down at the white and red-accented helm of his lover and most trusted adviser. “Such skill you have, my darling, you never cease to amaze me.” He smiled warmly and held the former medic’s gaze. It was all the talk of the towers, the Winglord choosing a grounder as his mate. The war was so long ago that their opposing factions was nothing more than a petty detail rather than a source of scandal. Instead their polar frame types were what every other mech was whispering about. Tall, slender, regal and proud mecha of flight simply didn’t stoop down to pair off with short, broad, modest civilian mechs of the planes. Yet here he was, laid out eagerly for his unconventional lover.

“ _You_ never cease your prattle,” the shorter mech harrumphed with a smirk, trying to tease the seeker into a pout. It worked just as he’d planned and the shorter mech pulled himself up to his knees and shuffled forward, bringing himself closer so he could lay over the other. “I love your prattle,” he reassured and leaned in, kissing the sulking jet.

“No manners at all,” he complained. “Here I am paying you a compliment and you insult me. I’ll have no kind words for you now, I hope you’re happy.” He turned away to pout further but his adviser was having none of it.

“You’re always itching for a fight. Let’s cut straight to making up instead?” Skilled hands moved over the seeker’s plating, starting on his smooth chest. It was free of any brand, no scar or remnants of one having ever been there. The skilled mech bowed himself to kiss the open span of his chest, fingers gliding lower. Digits danced across the transsteel of the Winglord’s cockpit, tracing over the seams and then quickly flitting further down, making the seeker writhe. Heat was pooling in his center, begging to be stoked into a flame but was only met with teasing, kindling touches.

“Please,” he sighed, intake open and gasping. “Please, take me… don’t tease me like this, it feels like torture,” he whined, wanting all of the other and having no patience for foreplay.

“You’re sure? I’m just getting started.” The grounder reached lower still and ghosted his palm past his lover’s aching array, the panels snapping away without any formal request. The slender spike quickly pressurized into the waiting palm and the Winglord hissed with pleasure when he was grasped fully. The shorter mech, still between his legs, had him positioned perfectly to use and enjoy. He could see every flinch, every lip-bite, each clawing of his imported sheets, every twitch of his thighs and the craning of his neck. His back began to bow and arch, moving his body and working his hips into a desperate yet slow thrusting pattern, trying to gain friction and completion in his lover’s palm.

“T-tease,” he chided and continued to squirm. The hand wrapped over his length began to knead and squeeze him, pumping and giving splendid pressure right where he wanted it and easing up when it was needed. “OH, please, please I need it, all of it-!” He at least used some modicum of courtesy toward his lover and it seemed to be doing the trick.

“Alright, alright,” the grounder chuckled warmly. “Relax for me.” His free hand moved directly toward its goal without anymore intricate dances. Two of his fingers slid into the jet’s slick folds and rubbed carefully, moving with the other’s already hypnotic thrusting. Then they entered, pushing past the first few rings of calipers and letting them cycle down on them, scissoring and thrusting faster than the jet’s rolling hips had been moving and throwing him off his momentum and soon the Winglord was at his consort’s mercy.

“Oh-yes! Yes, please, s-spike me already!” He was barely able to keep his optics online, the heat making them overly bright and all his readings bleary.

“Yeah? You want me to spike you? How bad do you want it?” The other was just out to drive him wild, now, his voice husky with his own lust and never ceasing either of those skilled, medic hands.

“So-SO BADLY! Please! Please Ratchet! Ratchet, I need you!” He reached out for the other, hoping to somehow pull him over, get him where he felt he needed him the most, but the grounder was already moving into the proper position.

“I’ve got you, Starscream,” he reassured warmly and pressed his legs under the seeker’s raising them and moving his hand from that molten valve to make way for his engorged spike. He pushed inside easily, fitting perfectly with his lover just as he’d calibrated them to fit so long ago. The keen of bliss from his seeker was music in his audials and he slammed himself home again and again. He wouldn’t stop and Starscream wouldn’t want it any other way. He begged him not to stop, cried for him to somehow go above and beyond what any being was capable of.

Everything was a blur of glistening passion and shared love, respect, need and want. Sparks met, cries were heeded and they were one, everything was perfect in that moment, and Starscream could feel himself beginning to open up, to allow himself to be taken, to give himself and to receive all of his lover, in spirit and body.

His gestation chamber opened, it took in every last drop of Ratchet’s offering and when he was finished, completely spent, Starscream rebooted his optics. The green mech over him should have startled him but it didn’t. It was a pleasant surprise and he smiled up at his most trusted guard.

“Bulkhead, dearest, you’ve come for me?” He sighed happily, somehow adjusted to the thick girth of his shaft that continued to slide in and out of his needy valve as though he had been there this whole time.

“Of course, you’re all I’d ever come here for.” Starscream chuckled at his honesty, the city was certainly not for grounders. Attractive from afar, but never fun to look down from. Bulkhead moved so Starscream was atop him and the large, broad mech was resting back on the wall at the head of the berth. His hands encompassed the Winglord’s slim waist and began to pull him up, then gently pushed him back down. His spike sank inside so completely that Starscream could feel his already full gestation chamber being nudged against, somehow still ready for more.

“You’ll always come for me...” Starscream panted out softly, but the former wrecker could hear the uncertainty, the questioning in his statement, and answered him with his enthusiasm. He pushed and pulled the seeker over his spike faster, more demanding.

“Always. I’ll always be here,” he promised him. Starscream trilled softly and let himself be pushed and pulled, taken again and again, falling onto the other’s shaft with open abandon and lust for it. His valve worshiped that thick spike like it belonged to it, taking it in so completely one would swear the cord and port were a paired set. Calipers stretched nearly to their limit and mesh sliding and plush around the spike’s round ridges, every node and every warm biolight making each of them feel more connected as they slid over one another in and endless, grinding loop.

“Bulkhead,” he gasped, feeling a familiar buzz of charge building in his frame. Starscream tried to keep up, moving his torso with those powerful hands holding him steadily in their rhythm. “F… Fill me, please, I need it!” He demanded so much of his new subject and yet he obeyed so readily that there was no doubt that his request was not too demanding. It suited the grounder just fine to serve his lord this way.

Their joining grew more urgent, their bodies grinding and pressing harder each time they brought their arrays together. Starscream’s moans were cut into exventing huffs as the grinding turned into outright pounding, his body being lifted almost completely and slammed back down. The impacts rocked him to his core and his gestation chamber opened readily, his calipers cycling down and squeezing his lover’s shaft, milking him and drawing out his essence. The payload was a heavy one and Starscream could swear his torso was beginning to bulge from the pressure of Bulkhead’s transfluid practically gushing into him.

Only once he was full and his chamber seemed to close up again, trapping in the fluid, did their pace ease, the hard slams easing into a swift, bouncing clap of their hips. His firm hands were gentle now, smaller almost. They were more nimble than Ratchet’s had been, but still so strong and able. Starscream rebooted those tired optics of his and smiled at the black and yellow face smiling up at him. “Bumblebee, you naughty thing,” he nearly slurred in his pleasure-filled delirium. “When did you get here?”

“I never left?” He laughed, his voice strong and handsome as it always should have been, before the war robbed him of it for so many years, but it was back and rightfully so. “Star, you’re so beautiful. Let me keep you?” He asked dotingly and the Winglord swore it was making him blush despite his best efforts.

“My lovely Bee, I’m yours,” he promised and kissed him softly. The softness seemed to melt the firm pace and he settled over the other’s lap, valve adjusting down and fitting around the young mech wonderfully. Bumblebee was his most promising knight, always headstrong and brave, ready to fight for him and go anywhere his duty beckoned. Right now, he was needed inside of his beloved Vosian lord. He moved carefully so as not to disengage with the seeker, and carefully moved him onto his back, but he kept moving and for a moment Starscream was uncertain.

“Shh, its okay, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, you’ll love this,” he grinned playfully and his mischief was contagious as soon Starscream was moving along and nodding readily for whatever the speedster had in store for him. Bumblebee boldly moved Starscream onto his back and up onto his shoulders, careful not to add his own weight as he was now in an almost squat to keep his spike seated in that valve, hands firmly holding Starscream’s legs open and over the jet’s front. Starscream could only reach his hands out onto the berth, holding tight just under his elevated back with his wings helping to keep him feel grounded in this nearly upside-down position.

When Bee began to move Starscream sang for him, gasping for cooler air and pleading for him not to stop in his native tongue, and it was so intense. The seeker had never let anyone manipulate him so, and he trusted the other not to hurt him. Around all of the novice that Bumblebee exuded, this was beyond that. He was careful of his Winglord yet entirely bold, and Starscream loved this new side of him. The adventure, the thrill of something new every time sent him into a giddy frenzy of “more”s and “harder”, “deeper”, “faster”, and his precious knight gave him all he demanded without fail each time.

The two were venting heavily and pressing their limits of flexibility and stamina, and at last they reached their peak together, each pushing the other over the edge and crying the other’s name. Starscream’s never-ending-need called for his gestation tank to cycle it’s entrance open once again, allowing for all of Bumblebee’s load to pulse into him in hot jets. He’d lost track of how many times this had happened, it shouldn’t be so many but everything was blending together, all of his lovers and their moments, now their transfluid was all together inside of him and he still felt hot.

He needed more, he needed to share his spark, he needed to feel one again, but Bumblebee was gone. Or was it Bulkhead? No, where was his precious medic? He looked around his darkened chamber and there were no blue optics, no smiles, no reassurances. His silk sheets were clean and pressed, all signs of his sexual escapades seemingly gone. He looked down over his torso and it was flat, flat as it had always been and he felt so disappointed and so empty. He didn’t just want the others, he _n_ _eed_ _ed_ them. He needed them so desperately and so entirely, but he felt trapped in his berth.

Where would he find his consort this time of night? What station would his guard be posted to? Was his knight still here or off on an adventure without him? He wanted to go look but he was so tired, he was so exhausted from his medley of interfacing that possibly never happened at all, his processor was going in circles as he lamented silently and alone. His name came to him, softly across his bed and he gasped. He looked over and now, cutting through the dark emptiness of his bed chambers, were a pair of cool blue optics staring into his smoldering embers.

They were so pure, those piercing optics, but so inviting that he didn’t fear sullying them. He did not know why he felt unworthy, now, in his own land of Vos, sole ruler of his people, and perhaps it was because he did not rule the owner of that steady gaze. He belonged to that strong, mighty mech waiting for him just outside of his reach, standing ready by the foot of his berth. He needed to belong, he wanted to be owned by him.

“This one, yes, this is the one,” he could hear himself whispering in his own audial, encouraging him to move forward. Starscream began to crawl, carefully, delicately so as not to startle this new guest. He was watching every move, every shift and Starscream was incredibly aware of everything he did to get closer, every bend of every single joint was assessed and noted, memorized by his new goal, this new mech studying him with that steady unwavering gaze.

It would not be Starscream conquering this new mech, not at all. He would have to be the one to surrender, to seek permission and comfort, to earn the trust of this perfection before him. He licked his lips, far too dry for his liking, and stopped at the edge of his berth. He was so close and still so far. He didn’t flash his pretty array, he didn’t open his mouth to flatter, he didn’t wiggle his body to tease. He had to think, he had to fight through the muddled haze of his mind to clearly understand what was appropriate. He swallowed the nerves that had built up and decided to give himself entirely, to trust the other with everything.

“Will you have me?” His chest plating pulled open slowly, carefully, and his spark’s light illuminated the darkness in the room, brought color to the face of the Prime that had come for him in the night. The larger mech was showered in the shine of Starscream’s spark, and yet the Winglord felt as though he were the one fortunate enough to be basking in the other’s presence. Slowly, Optimus raised his arm, his hand coming forward to delicately cup the seeker’s face. It was so warm and so real, so startling that Starscream gasped and felt pulled into the weight of himself, nearly disoriented.

“Starscream,” his name was so loud, so heavy from the Prime and he felt dragged down even more, the moment feeling suddenly distant yet so intense. “Starscream, wake up. Come back.”

* * *

 

He awoke with a gasp, bodily shuddering and his armor clamping and flaring intermittently, not knowing if he was running hot or cold. He was entirely too hot, he knew from his HUD warnings, but had to manually override his body’s erratic behavior. His optics flickered to life into a dreary haze. His cell was lit up and he was able to see every sad crack and chip in the surrounding gray drab walls and ceiling. Starscream growled and could only assume his sad state was the work of that vindictive femme. He couldn’t remember much of his last couple of days, only that he had his ration withheld again and was given only the single slat of light from the peep-hole being partially open.

A firm yet steady hand came to his cheek and he paused, everything slowing down, his anger leaving him and he was swept back to a place in his mind, a place with…

“Optimus?” he croaked, less than regal-sounding, and looked to the side to see the Autobot commander there, kneeling and checking over him. Ratchet was at his side and tucking some tools away, while Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee all stood outside the cell and watching curiously. The red and blue Autobot leader smiled warmly down at him, something he never thought he’d actually witness directed toward him. It made his spark swirl a little faster in his chest.

“You’re all right. Ratchet was called down just in time. You’ve been refusing your rations?” It was not chastising, no, his tone was purely of concern. “Arcee says you won’t take fuel from her. Is this true?” Starscream could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was he… getting the benefit of the doubt? Was this wonderful mech really going to consider HIS side of things? Wait-WAIT! When did he start thinking of Optimus Prime as “wonderful”?! He sputtered and began to sit upright, pleased to find his arms were free of any bindings.

“Yes,” he huffed out, schooling his expression into a deep-set frown. “It’s petty, I know, but if I’m going to overheat here, I’d rather overheat on _her_ watch, just to make sure she disappointed at least someone here.” Arcee huffed from the doorway but she was clearly grateful for not being ratted out. Perhaps this would be the end of her misdeeds and un-Autobot-like behavior. Optimus nodded carefully, expression calm and non judging.

“You’ve taken fuel from the others,” he began, “I can ensure your energon is brought only by someone you trust. Ratchet has offered to do so and check your vitals more frequently.” Starscream cast a glance to the medic who had finished packing his kit and was standing solemnly behind Optimus, his expression unreadable and for some reason that worried the seeker slightly.

“… Yes,” he decided quietly. “I would prefer my energon from a medical professional such as Ratchet.” Optimus nodded at that and looked to his old friend. As if on cue Ratchet produced a cube from his subspace and passed it to the Prime, who then faced Starscream with the offering. The seeker snatched it up with embarrassing haste and cracked it open, drinking it down without any thought to his precious image. He was starving and far too heated to care. The energon did wonders for him and he felt almost tingly where ever the energon traveled in his system.

“Never seen anyone chug medical grade so quickly,” Ratchet remarked with slight amusement and the jet was glad for it, glad that the medic wasn’t angry at him. At least he hoped he wasn’t. Finding out your patient was ‘refusing energon’ could really twist some bolts and Ratchet was not one to trifle with when it came to his patients.

“Well, it was very needed, and very much appreciated. Thank you.” Optimus seemed pleased at his gratitude and was at last moving to his pedes.

“When you are feeling better we have much to discuss. I’ll leave you in Ratchet’s care.” Starscream nodded and the medic folded his arms once Optimus was past him. Arcee fell into step behind Optimus but the other two, Bumblebee and Bulkhead, remained. Odd, Starscream pondered, and his optics darted about to each of the three. His trust was quickly turning into anxious anticipation at their stares and silence and finally he barked out from the floor.

“Well what is it?! Go on, scold me for being an unruly patient, see if I care.” He flicked his wings for good measure and tried to glare at the medic, call his bluff. The ambulance snorted and walked closer, kneeling down where Optimus had been moments ago.

“Starscream you need to tell me what is going on in that twisted processor of yours RIGHT NOW. You’ve already got Bulkhead and I helping you, then you go and try to fry yourself by overheating??” Starscream wouldn’t look over, mouth pulled into a tightly drawn frown. “Now you’ve convinced Bumblebee to fall into this mess and you try to fry yourself AGAIN?! Just what are you trying to do??! What game are you trying to play?? Because whatever it is, you are going to be on the losing end, my friend.” His disappointment was almost painful for the seeker to hear and he turned away, helm down turned as he was addressed like the schemer they truly thought he was being.

“It isn’t a game,” he muttered. Ratchet began to bluster and he couldn’t take it. “NOT A GAME! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what’s happening anyway, you old fool! I shouldn’t HAVE to tell you what’s been going on here, it isn’t my fault you’re all blind to it.” He was nearly snarling at them now, bearing his denta and seething through them as he took a moment to observe them. Ratchet appeared completely at a loss and Bee was rubbing his fingers together in a nervous itch to take action but uncertain on how or what he _could_ do. Bulkhead was something else. Helm down-turned, optics evasive and focused anywhere but the seeker. That nervous shifting on his pedes, his silence. “Bulkhead has an idea,” Starscream reached, cast out a line and knew he’d hooked Bulkhead into the conversation when he snapped his gaze upward.

“Bulkhead, what does he mean? What idea?” Ratchet moved back so he was able to look over at the larger mech, still keeping Starscream within his peripheral. Feeling the press of the medic’s questioning and now Bee burbling in binary behind him he heaved a sigh and shrugged.

“I… I mean if Starscream isn’t doing it to himself, and none of us are being mean to him to make him do it, doesn’t that point to Arcee…?” Bulkhead almost doubted his own deductive reasoning by the look of angry shock the Autobot medic gave him, mouth open in a silent stammer and objection. “Just think about it, Doc. Its not like we’ve been out to ruin his life, we’ve been bending over backwards to keep him happy-”

“More like bending _me_ over,” Starscream smirked and Bulkhead tisked at the interruption, only earning a smirk from the captive jet who let him then continue.

“-We, us three and Optimus haven’t done anything to get him steamed. Then Arcee’s watch comes around and boom- he’s sick and worse than we’d left him.”

“We can hardly point to the fact he’s unwell on her watch as the only reason, I…” Ratchet put a hand on his hip and rubbed his helm, trying to work this out but clearly struggling with his own bias. “She’s so… responsible, she takes care of Jack like he was her own sparkling, she never disobeys orders unless...” He looked up to Bulkhead, perhaps finally having a process tree that branched out far enough to support Bulkhead’s theory.

“Unless she’s got a grudge to settle,” Bulkhead reaffirmed his standpoint and looked to Starscream, Ratchet joining his line of sight and both of them grew quiet when they could see the seeker looking away. His wings were high and tight in agitation. He didn’t like doubt being cast his way and, though grateful for one mech understanding his predicament, was still very sore over Ratchet’s disbelief in him.

“ _::_ _I found him the first time,::_ ” Bumblebee spoke up carefully, earning their attention though not the captive con’s optics. “ _::I didn’t really question her, she just told me he threw a fit and I believed her, but… I can’t imagine Starscream damaging the lantern you left for him, Ratchet. Not now that I know how scared of the dark he is-::_ ”

“I AM NOT ‘scared of the dark’,” the seeker sneered defensively, air quotes and all. “I’m highly acclimated to open air and LIGHT. Being cooped up in this cell has been bad enough, but tolerable. When she takes away my last comfort, I…” His anger seeped out and he felt suddenly vulnerable and ashamed. He was no proud air commander in this moment, he was no better than a sniveling youngling begging for protection from those stronger than him. He shouldn’t be so easily pinned like this, shouldn’t be made to feel so trapped in that cruel femme’s twisted idea of ‘justice’.

He flinched and came back to the present when two strong arms wrapped around him. He tensed and tried to pull back but the EM field that washed over him was a tidal wave of calm reassurance and… affection? Ratchet pulled Starscream close and sighed, using his attitude to mask his soft gesture. “I wish you would’ve just said something sooner.”

“… You wouldn’t have believed me. You still don’t...” The seeker muttered and let himself relax, ignoring the optics he knew were on him. “… At least not entirely.”

“I’ll always hear you out.” Starscream felt his spark give that odd flutter and was disappointed to feel Ratchet start to move away. “It’s what’s right, getting both sides of the story. Believe me, we’ll be having words with Arcee as well. Then, when all’s said and done...” The medic seemed to debate with himself internally before nodding. “Then we’ll bring it to Optimus.”

Starscream watched him with some uncertainty. “And you expect he’ll punish one of his precious Autobots?” He folded his arms over himself, glad for the freedom to do so.

“He won’t let this slide. Decepticon or otherwise, Optimus will do what is right by those under his care.” The scoff the seeker gave made Ratchet frown more. “You doubt it but think of things from his perspective. He has a cooperative captive that surrendered himself to his team, a very high profile, deadly Decepticon Air Commander, second in command of our enemy’s forces. He’s grateful for your cooperation, Starscream.”

The jet was examining his claws with feigned disinterest but he couldn’t help his slight smirk. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? But do go on, I love hearing about my merits.”

“STARSCREAM,” Bulkhead and Ratchet both called in grumpy unison and the seeker grinned. “I mean it. He has… some hopes for you, and he’ll not ignore any prisoner’s complaints, especially yours. We’ll learn what we need to and investigate. I do want to warn you… I’ll have to tell him everything sooner or later.” The cell had a cold air run through it, hydraulics audibly tightening in Bulkhead and Bumblebee.

“… What do you mean everything?” Starscream did his damndest not to sound angry but he was. His plating tightened down and his wings began to pull tight to his back.

“This constant… breeding frenzy of yours,” Ratchet gestured vaguely at him. He didn’t seem disgusted but he was definitely frustrated and that struck the jet somewhere deep. “I know this hasn’t been a picnic for you but its beginning to go beyond satisfying your medical needs, Starscream.”

“What are you implying?!” The seeker snarled and his EM field lashed out like angry needles jabbing at the others. Bulkhead shifted slightly and into a sort of guarding stance, Bumblebee doing the same and stepping from Bulkhead’s side to better watch the door. Ratchet kept a steady optic on their captive as he steadily grew more agitated.

“I’m not implying anything. I’ll just state some facts. You are in a heat. It should have begun to die down by now with all of us helping you like this. You’ve been talking while you recharge, Starscream.” The jet’s optics were wide and panicked. “The things you’ve been saying-”

“Stop it!”

“-You’ve been saying our names, all three of ours, and-”

“SHUT UP! YOU’RE LYING!”

“Starscream, you can’t have anything with us! None of us here can-can be you CHOSEN ONE!” Ratchet snapped back. “Whatever fantasies you’re building up will never be a reality! Not in this universe, not in this…..” He trailed off. The past few weeks were full of surprises and firsts, and again there was another unfolding right before him. Bulkhead and Bumblebee relaxed their stances slightly and both looked more concerned than anything.

“What?! Go on! Keep going! I know how much you’re loving this!” His voice was cracking, it was hardly intimidating and sounded like a cheap imitation of his true commanding tone. “Cast me aside! Do it!”

“Starscream, I can see you’re upset, we’ll, ahm… I’ll come back later-”

“Don’t you ever step foot in this cell again! I will destroy you! Every last one of you!” He shrieked at the three of them, moving to get to his pedes. Ratchet moved back and marched out of the cell, his face a mix of anger and something else. Bulkhead and Bee were left to quickly shut the cell and jumped at the violent crashing of claws against the heavy barrier. The seeker cursed them and slung every type of insult imaginable across a broad spectrum of language, some dialects they’d never heard before.

“ _::He’s so angry he’s resurrecting dead languages,::_ ” Bee stood back with his hands to his hips, not sure what they could do now. “ _::What do you think Optimus is going to make of all this? I… I don’t think we could get kicked out of the Autobots but we still messed up, you know?::_ ” There wasn’t an answer or even a sigh from his friend, prompting the scout to look over at the quiet mech. Bulkhead was staring at the door as if he could still see the furious con behind it. “ _::Bulk, you look, uh,::_ ” Bumblebee shrugged and just said it. “ _::You look real worried.::_ ”

The heavy hitter reached up to rub the back of his helm, his lower jaw coming up tighter than usual with his concern. “Maybe cuz I am worried… Never seen Starscream _cry_ before.” The scout whirred softly in agreement and between the two not another word was spoken. In silence they both decided to wait outside the cell for the jet, listening to his rampage dissolve into gasping sobs and wordless screams.


End file.
